


The World Across the Pond

by James_Wright



Category: American Dragon: Jake Long, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 197,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/James_Wright/pseuds/James_Wright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For reasons long forgotten, the Dragons of Draco Isle and the wizarding community have remained distant for centuries. The return of the Dark Lord has sparked the need for these two worlds to once again reunite or surely be destroyed. Jake and his allies are chosen to observe and guard Hogwarts, but they'll soon learn that not all wizards and dragons share their peaceful desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, this is my first attempt at writing a fanfic on a universe crossover that has been inspiring me since I first found this website. American Dragon Jake Long was easily one of my favorite cartoons as a child (despite Jake's initially unbearable, cringe-worthy behavior), and the Harry Potter series is possibly the single greatest pop-culture influence of my entire life. Merging the two, when they both encompassed such similar concepts, felt so natural in my imagination that I was surprised more crossovers of this nature hadn't been attempted. So here I am, putting in my own two cents, and I'm glad to have you along for the ride!
> 
> From the perspective of AD:JL, this story takes place when Jake is around 16, three years since he first became the American Dragon. This universe is canon with the TV series, taking place after the events of Hong Kong Longs. I warn you now, this fic isn't focused on Rose, as you'll see in the story. I feel like the JakexRose stories are plentiful already and didn't really belong in this story.
> 
> From the perspective of Harry Potter, this story takes place at the beginning of the fifth book, Order of the Phoenix. Everything up to and through Goblet of Fire is canon, and only now with the introduction of the Jake Long universe do changes begin to pop up.
> 
> Again, this is my first fanfiction, so I am begging you: please read and review. Reviews give me inspiration, direction, and show me that at least someone is enjoying it. Or not enjoying it, I'll take the bad with the good. Follow if you want to stay updated, and bear with me as we hurtle down this path with our brave heroes contending against their worst enemies...
> 
> -James
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon Jake Long, the Harry Potter Series, or any characters associated with them.

The Sun shone brightly in the center of the sky, lighting the serene island below in a warm mid-summer's glow. Waves ebbed gently along the shores while a light breeze flowed through the grassy hills and sharp cliffs lining the mountainous peak at the center of the paradise. If not for the occasional shadow cast by clouds lazily floating by, the scene truly would have been picturesque, almost comically so, Lao Shi mused.

The former Chinese Dragon sat meditating in one of the few remaining natural groves in the area, as close to relaxing as the wizened man was ever likely to be found. Were he not restricted by the necessity of the island's secrecy and his own duties back home, Lao Shi would be content to return to this shaded spot every day of his life. Yet he couldn't help but be reminded of the impermanence of his peace as the quick blur of a shadow streaked across his closed eyelids, snapping his attention back to the present. In the distance, two blurs, one red and the other yellow, cut through the horizon, travelling at speeds that even Lao Shi considered impressive. "Of course," he mumbled to himself, "he _would_ fill our last day with childish competition and rivalry." Not so much disappointed as exasperated by his grandson's predictable nature, Lao Shi did his best to again empty his mind and meditate. He was yet again distracted, however, as a group of figures walked out of the reception building along the coast of the island. "It is time," he sighed, before transforming into a large, blue, snake-like dragon and flying towards the Dragon Temple.

* * *

"You should've known better than to try and challenge the _Am-Drag_!" Jake shouted as he and his opponent careened past another sharp turn, through jagged canyons and past pits of boiling geyser water. The two were using every ounce of their energy to try and outdistance the other, refusing to accept defeat on their last of three "friendly" contests. Pride was on the line, and Jake wasn't about to lose to the biggest chump he'd ever met, magical or otherwise. "There's still time to throw in the towel, _Nerk_!"

"This 'aint over yet, _mate_!" Fred shot back, before twisting perfectly into a stream of spewing geyser steam. Jake flinched in sympathized pain before seeing his rival, wings fully exposed, riding the blast of air and rocketing ahead of him.

"Oh, so _that's_ how we're gonna do this?!" he yelled ahead. Fred laughed to his passed opponent as the piggy-backed cloud of air dissipated. He took off at his usual pace, gunning for the final glowing hoop in the distance. The Australian Dragon, his victory assured, tilted his head back to Jake to get in a last few, choice taunts.

"It's alright, mate! You gave it your…" was all he managed to get out before reflexively ducking out of the way. A red dragon with a yellow underbelly and spine tipped with green flaring scales roared past him. Facing behind him and chest to the sky as though he were trying to backstroke through the air, with his limbs and wings all tucked in to be as streamlined as possible, Jake was roaring out every ounce of fire he could through his gaping mouth. In truth, he managed to look quite like a missile cutting through the air.

Jake couldn't help but spare a wink and "good-bye" wave for Fred, who was desperately trying to gain the speed he needed to catch up. He was soon out of flames, the sudden loss of breath and following gasping struggle to flip over into his normal flying position quickly shook Jake out of his gloating. He managed to right himself just in time to see the upper rim of the goal colliding with the bridge of his snout, the pain blinding him instantly.

Fred slowed to a glide the moment he saw Jake collapse to the ground with the formerly floating ring goal following suit. He landed smoothly next to the downed dragon, commenting, "I'd call that little trick of yours a beaut if it weren't so stupid." He gave a small laugh, offering his hand to Jake, who took it gladly.

"Make's sense, it _was_ your little geyser stunt that gave me the idea," Jake rasped while brushing the dirt off of his scales. The welt on his head wasn't going away any time soon, and his throat felt like burning asphalt.

"Well now THAT explains it, I couldn't have thought of a dumber plan if I tried," Fred chortled. The two boys burst with laughter (which Jake's throat sincerely resented) and began another contest, this time of recounting who had made a bigger fool of himself in the past. Ultimately, Fred won by pointing out Jake's backfired pepper prank that had almost cost him his master years before, though not before the two had shed several tears in laughter over the stories. Had you told either of them that they would become so close when they first met three years previously, they would likely have had similar, if not worse, fits of laughter.

The two were finally pulled out of their reverie of story-telling when a smaller dark pink dragon flew up to them and landed near Jake. Turning his head to the new comer, Jake recognized none other than his overbearing and perfectionist sister. "Whaddup, Hales?" he asked, climbing up off of his side to his feet. The sudden movement brought another wave of pain to his forehead, but it was nothing compared to the sweet sense of victory that still lingered in Jake's chest.

"Hey Fred!" Haley cheered to the yellow dragon still sitting next to Jake. Nerk responded with a mock salute and toothy grin.

"G'day Haley, care to go for a run around the track?" he asked gesturing to the flight course in the distance. "We don't have a third goal ring thanks to Jakeroo over here, but I'd probably already have finished the race before you made it past the second one anyway," he teased her.

She rolled her eyes so well Jake thought they might be stuck back in her thick dragon skull until she turned to face him. "Jake, gramps wants us to meet him at the steps to the council chambers. He sounded serious, but he wouldn't tell me what was going on," she said with a downcast stare and her claws folded neatly in front of her. Jake saw the nervous motion and instantly rebuffed her with his hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing to worry about, little sis', Mac'Daddy Jake's got this. Nerk, you coming?" he asked Fred, who was now on his feet stretching his limbs.

"You kiddin', mate? If it's got Lao Shi worried, then you'll need the Australian Dragon for sure. Only question is, who's gonna get there first?" Before Jake could register what was happening, Fred was soaring towards the Dragon Temple, keen on getting revenge for earlier.

"Oh, it is _so ON_!" Jake yelled, flying after Nerk and leaving Haley to sit in the dust from his take off, slowly shaking her head in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.

" _Boys_."

* * *

Lao Shi stood next to the man in his dragon form. He could see two other dragons near them waiting patiently in the audience benches. Sun Park, Haley's master and the former Korean Dragon, sat vigilantly to his left, and Dominic, Fred Nerk's master, relaxed to his right. Above them sat the five council members, each a dragon as well, watching intently as the man stepped forward towards the center of the dais below the council, preparing to speak to the leaders of the Dragons of Draco Isle.

"I know that it has been quite some time since you've welcomed any outsiders in person, and I am grateful for the hospitality," the tall figure said humbly with a slight bow. He wore no identifying clothing or paraphernalia, as far as Lao Shi could tell, yet he thought the man dressed far too warm for the climate on the island. A large flowing traveller's cloak covered his form, showing underneath nothing more than simple purple silk robes and fine shoes. His beard was impossible to ignore, extending nearly to his knees with the occasional bead or thread looped through it in ornamentation. A simple, flat hat with thin embroidery adorned his grey haired scalp, and elegant half circle glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. Lao Shi even noticed a small pin tucked into the inside of his cloak reading " _Howling Holyhead Harpies_ " which he could make nothing of. It was clear that he was trying to appear as formal, yet simple, as possible, and the effort was not wasted. The council regarded him warmly, each member giving approving glances and polite smiles to the stranger.

"Come now," began Councilor Andam, "you can hardly call yourself an 'outsider' after all you've done for our community."

"If not for your efforts, our people may have suffered terrible fates in the past decades, were we to survive at all," agreed Councilor Kulde. "Not only was your advice essential in defeating the Dark Dragon, but you also brought Grindelwald and his destruction to an end when we could not," he continued. At this, Lao Shi's eyes snapped fully open. He was aware they had received significant help in tracking down and cornering the Dark Dragon before Lao Shi had defeated him in combat, but he had never known where the help had come from. Even if his fall had only been temporary, it had still bought the dragons decades of peace, free of his evil influence. The tale of the wizard Grindelwald, who had come so close to causing all-out war amongst wizards so long ago, was also well known, even to dragons. To think this man had aided in both disasters was astounding, but who was he?

"An emphasis on the 'helped', I believe. Nothing I've accomplished has been alone," the man replied with a gentle smile and distinct twinkling in his eye. Lao Shi couldn't help but feel his respect for the man grow with every word he spoke. In the back of his mind, a spark was growing and he could feel some recognition of this man emerging. He was rescued from his slight of memory when Councilor Andam gave him the answer he had been searching for.

"Leave it to Dumbledore to deny his own status and achievements," Andam jovially said while gently shaking his head with closed eyes in disbelief. "Pleasantries aside, however," Andam continued, all signs of lighthearted casualness wiped from his face, "we cannot deny that this meeting is _very_ unorthodox. Though we trust your judgment completely, we must still ask: what it is that would require us to meet in such secrecy?"

The man Lao Shi now recalled as Albus Dumbledore, easily the most famous and talented wizard in the world as far as the dragons were concerned, also lost all traces of easiness and friendship in his expression. The twinkle in his eyes had been replaced with stern passion and a sense of foreboding urgency that almost felt tangible in the air.

"I am afraid," Dumbledore began with a small sigh, "that I am in desperate need of your help. Another dark and powerful wizard, _Lord Voldemort_ , has been believed to be dead by most in the wizarding community for over a decade. However, a few months ago he returned, killing one of my students and attempting, unsuccessfully, to kill another. The Ministry of Magic is attempting to prevent chaos and uprising in our community by denying these events and defaming anyone who claims otherwise, myself included." He paused for a moment, allowing the councilmen time to digest what they had learned so far.

Kulde was the first to speak. "This Lord Voldemort that you spoke of, he is the one referred to today my most witches and wizards as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, yes?" Dumbledore gave a nod, confirming Kulde's worries. "We also believed him to be dead for over a decade now. How is it that he managed to return, and is he truly the threat you make him seem to be?" The councilmen wore mixed expressions, some showing concern, others, like Kulde, wearing cautious skepticism.

"I am unsure myself, and beyond any doubt," Dumbledore answered. "Though his previous campaign to conquer the wizarding world failed and barely managed to extend beyond Britain, he had many followers and now he is more powerful than ever before. If not stopped, his influence will surely spread throughout the world, and the magical community as we know it will never be the same. He _will_ enslave or kill all normal humans, he _will_ become a dictator over all witches and wizards, and he _will_ destroy any who stand in his way." He paused again to allow the councilors time to consider this. When none seemed to have a question, he continued, "I have been able to do much in my time to help our communities, but this, I think, even I cannot overcome," he finished with a solemn downward glance, almost as though he were ashamed of the fact, Lao Shi thought.

Councilor Kukulkhan took the opportunity to address the wizard next. "Dumbledore, you know that we are sworn guardians of the magical world, just as much as the Ministry of Magic, at times, claims to be. We have never been fully cooperative with one another, and the distance that we've kept for centuries, though strenuous, has managed to do the job. In the absence or inability of the Ministry to act, we of course will rise to the challenge." Kukulkhan stood as he finished, his pride in their capabilities practically radiating from him. His furor was short lived and soon replaced with a frustrated, confused expression. "However, we have no information on Voldemort or his plan, location, or immediate goals. With so little to go on, what could we possibly do to help you in this plight?" The other councilors nodded in agreement before turning back to Dumbledore. Though they all felt the same in their responsibility to the wizard that had shown them compassion and faith in the past, he still had not made his desires known and the same question weighed heavy on all of their minds: what, exactly, was he expecting from them?

Dumbledore lifted his gaze at these words, now with a small smile returned to his lips, much to the surprise of Lao Shi. "An excellent question," he began, bringing his arms out from under his cloak to clasp his hands behind his back. "As you are all aware, I am still currently the headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though stopping Voldemort before his plans can be realized is my desire, this cannot currently be achieved for all the reasons you've just mentioned, and…more. For now, however, I still must insure the continued safety of my school and, most importantly, my students. They are the future of our world, and with current events the way they are I am afraid that they are all in grave danger." Dumbledore surveyed his audience while taking a breath. Each councilor was still listening intently, looks of concern or determination appearing on some of their faces.

"There is also the problem of how Lord Voldemort is likely to prepare for his new campaign. Last time he attempted a coup against the wizarding world, he had done so with the assistance of many magical creatures that he had convinced to join his cause." This comment struck a chord with each councilor, looks of rage and resentment passing through them. "I plan to do everything to prevent this from happening again, and in doing so remove a great source of power from Voldemort. However, he will still have access to his most dangerous weapon of all, one which I cannot hope to overcome."

"This," Dumbledore began, taking the time to look at each councilor intently, and even sparing Lao Shi an equally stern gaze before returning his attention to the dragons above him, "is where I need the help of the ancient Dragons of Draco Isle. With your help, we can, as muggles are fond of saying, kill two birds with one stone."

Lao Shi could see the confused curiosity in the eyes of the councilman, but before they could provoke any further explanation from the wizard the room shook, an overwhelming, reverberating ring bursting out from the closed doors of the council chambers behind Lao Shi. One of the doors slowly eased open until a red dragon that was slumped against it fell into the room on his back, barely conscious.

Embarrassment and anger surged through Lao Shi at his apprentice's foolishness, while the tall wizard seemed very amused by the display, struggling to contain his grin when the red dragon fluttered his eyes open and spoke in a drunken slur.

"Did I win?..."


	2. Against Fear Itself

"Jake! We were racing to the STAIRS to meet Lao Shi, not the…" Fred was yelling to Jake as he climbed the staircase to meet the red dragon. He stopped short when he reached the top and saw the council door ajar with Jake on his back in the entryway, a tall human who he did not recognize (but was clearly stifling laughter behind an _enormous_ beard), and one, two, three, … _eight_ dragons who did not appear all too pleased with the interruption. Fred stood frozen with his maw sagging open until Haley quickly rushed passed him to Jake's side.

"I'm so sorry, grandpa! I'll get him out of here," Haley pleaded, bending down to help Jake to his feet, practically hissing at him, " _Get UP you idiot_." Seeing Haley struggle with her brother, Fred snapped out of his stupor and hurried over to assist her, all the while whimpering, "We're so sorry, so very sorry, we'll leave right away!"

"Please, forgive our students for the interruption," Lao Shi apologized politely to the wizard, who merely responded with a humorous, understanding laugh and shook his head in turn.

"It's quite alright! In fact, they had perfect timing. If you'll allow it, I'd like them to remain and listen to what I was about to explain," he asked both of Lao Shi and the council members. All were still surprised by the intrusion and at a loss regarding the wizard's grand plan, and a meeting of this nature was hardly the place for dragons in training. Kulde was the first to break the silence after meeting the glances of his fellow councilman.

"If you think their presence is necessary then they may stay," the icy-blue dragon answered hesitantly. "Lao Shi? Dominic? Sun?" he asked the blue, teal, and green dragons below, more out of respect than anything.

Lao Shi bowed slightly and looked for the approving nods from his comrades before responding with, "Very well. Come, young dragons, take your seats."

Jake had just regained his balance and let go of Haley and Fred when Lao Shi beckoned them to sit at the benches. He rubbed his snout gingerly, still aching from the hoop incident, while approaching the benches near the other dragons, the other two following close behind him. He couldn't help but feel that the gaze the robed man trained on them, though seemingly filled with delight and interest, was critical and almost scrutinizing. He had heard the others referring to him as a wizard, and they had addressed him in respectful tones so he was obviously no enemy. However, everyone had also remained in their dragon forms despite their attitude towards the man. It was clear that he did not know the Dragons of Draco Isle had natural human bodies - a crucial fact that few witches and wizards were ever made aware of - and everyone in attendance aimed to keep it that way. Once they finally sat on their bench, the wizard seemed satisfied with his observations and, with a reassured nod, turned back to the councilmen.

Dumbledore continued, his voice again devoid of pleasantries. "I will be simple, councilors. It was my hope that I could convince you to allow some of your number to join me at Hogwarts for this next school year. Not simply as students, naturally, but as observers and, admittedly, guardians. The Ministry of Magic, in its power struggle, is sending its own members to control me, though that is of little concern. What truly worries me is that the students and their families are terrified after last year's events and faith in Hogwarts is diminishing." He paused for a moment as though collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I am not exaggerating when I say this: if Hogwarts and its students are captured by Voldemort's influence, or worse, lost to the grips of fear, then we will surely all be destroyed."

If any of the councilmen had yet to be doubtful or confused, they certainly were now. Councilor Andam considered voicing his concerns when a voice from below interrupted him mid thought. "And just how would having a bunch of dragons in your school fix anything, yo?"

Haley looked like she was about to viciously murder the red dragon next to her that had now rudely barged into a conversation beyond his understanding, _twice_. The daggers her eyes shot at Jake seemed ineffective, however, as he noticed he now had the room's attention and nervously kept babbling. "I, uh, mean…well if you're trying to make your school seem safer or more protective, how would unfamiliar, strange, talking dragons solve that? And if you want to protect your school from this Volde-guy, then why not have your own guards, yo?"

The tension in the air was palpable. The councilors seemed infuriated (though not surprised), and Jake was certain he'd signed his own death certificate when the wizard (Dumbledore, right?) beamed a genuine smile, almost as though Jake had said exactly what he had wanted. Jake fought the urge to just sit down and melt into the bench, his wings, ears, and tail all reflexively ducking to reflect his self-consciousness. _I'm really going to have to learn to shut my big mouth_ , he scolded himself, before the wizard addressed him.

"My apologies, your name is 'Jake', correct?" Jake jumped into a stiff posture, as though snapping to attention in the military, and nodded quickly at the question. "Tell me Jake, when you are terrified, alone, and feel lost without any direction, who is the first person you turn to?"

His eyes immediately found his grandfather's (who was still too furious to appreciate the sentiment). "Well…my Dragon Master."

"We have many of our own instructors at Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued. "And our professors are quite excellent at their jobs, as I'm sure your Dragon Master is." He gave a light bow to Lao Shi at this, who politely returned it, before continuing, "Imagine, though, if your master were not around, or you could not find him. Who then?"

Again, Jake's eyes betrayed his thoughts as he slightly turned his head to look at Fred and Haley to either side of him. "Probably…my friends. They would never let me down." He said with a smirk looking at Haley and then Fred. "Okay, maybe Fred would, but I'd still give him a chance," he added with a snicker. Fred's expression jumped from mutual understanding to outrage, his retort being cut off by the wizard's reply.

"My point exactly. The other professors and I can only give so much to the students. The rest of their strength comes from their friendships, their trust, and their _love_ for each other. Friends can only make you stronger." He turned back to the councilors who had watched the exchange in near exasperation. "I think that it is time for new friendships between the Dragons of Draco Isle and wizards to be made. It will be new and strange for the students, and uncomfortable for the dragons, to be sure. I am confident, however, that these new bridges we build will stand strong. Not just against the influence of evil men like Lord Voldemort, but against his most powerful weapon: the doubt he instills, the uncertainty of the unknown _, against fear itself_."

He finished the last few words with indignation and a resounding strength that Jake wasn't even aware had been building in the air. Whatever he had done in the past to earn the council's approval, Jake could already tell that this man was impossibly charismatic, a natural leader. The council members were now openly conversing about the idea amongst themselves, as were the three Dragon Masters below. Jake was still swimming in his thoughts when the wizard turned to look at him, hands clasped behind his back in confidence, and threw him a wink with a coy smile.

Jake's head really was aching now, and it wasn't because of his recent concussions. An unfamiliar, albeit famous, wizard had appeared at the Isle of Draco in person. _That just never happens_ , Jake thought. He'd then gone on to confess the imminent destruction of all magical creatures by someone everyone thought was dead, and then finished by proudly explaining his plan to prevent it all by filling his school of underage wizards with _Dragons_. If it weren't for the completely serious attitudes of everyone in the room, he would have thought it was an elaborate prank, maybe even a test. The councilmen, Dragon Masters, and Dumbledore were all still deep in their discussion at the councilors' platform.

"This is so whack, yo, he can't be serious?" he whispered to Haley and Fred beside him.

"I was thinking the same thing," Haley chimed, "but there's no doubt that Dumbledore is serious. _Maybe_ insane, but definitely serious."

"He can't honestly think that there'd be any dragons jumping to watch over a school of magical teenagers…" Fred added, just before Lao Shi and the other masters turned towards their group and began to approach them. Jake knew that look in his grandfather's eyes, and despair about a certain wizard and his school grew deep in the pit of his stomach.

Jake let out a groan. "Aw _man_."

* * *

The rest of the day was a blur. After the meeting with the wizard, the World Dragon Council had ended their session and Jake, Haley, Sun, and Lao Shi returned to New York City. Jake's dreaded suspicions, it seemed, had been correct. The council had agreed to allow a small group of dragons to live at Hogwarts over the next semester until the break for holidays, at which time they would report back to the council and any further hosting of the Dragons of Draco Isle would be decided. As the council had begun to discuss the best candidates for the diplomatic mission, Dumbledore had interrupted with his own suggestions. He had been impressed with the three Dragon Masters and their pupils at the meeting and had asked if the six of them would able to assume the roles. The councilmen had argued the point, mostly because of the necessity of finding replacements as temporary American and Australian Dragons, and also due to their questioning the young dragons' abilities to act as diplomats on behalf of the Dragons of Draco Isle (particularly Jake). Dumbledore insisted, however, _especially_ when it came to his faith in the red dragon, and ultimately the council had begrudgingly agreed to his plans.

No one, however, had asked the dragons in training their opinions, a point Jake made abundantly clear when they had finally returned to Lao Shi's electronics shop.

"It's my Junior year of high school, G!" he exclaimed. The two were in the back room of the shop as humans, Lao Shi sipping a cup of tea, Jake standing with his hands balled into fists. "I've finally managed to get school, dragon business, and a social life balanced after all this time, and now you're going to drag me across the world! I've got college to start worrying about, grades, my friends, and the magical community in New York! Why can't you leave at least Haley behind so she can handle the Am-Drag's job?" Jake knew that Haley was just as upset by the turn of events, but she'd never be disrespectful enough to question her master Sun's judgment, so naturally Jake had to do it for her.

Lao Shi would normally snap at Jake and remind him to never question the judgment of his Dragon Master, but in this instance he felt his grandson did deserve an explanation. He gently set the china on the counter before giving Jake his rebuttal. "We will homeschool you while we are in England so that you do not fall behind in your studies, Trixie and Spud will understand that this is your duty and wait for you to return, an experienced dragon will be assigned to watch over yours and Haley's duties, and, most importantly, Dumbledore strongly believes that both you and Haley will be necessary in gaining the trust of the students." He slid through the curtain to the front of the shop and began counting the register before closing shop.

"But G, why? This guy is ordering us around like dogs, and for what? Since when do we do the dirty work of wizards or sorcerers? He should be dealing with his own problems!" Jake grabbed a nearby broom and pan and began sweeping the floor, hoping the chore would calm him down. Lao Shi noticed and was slightly impressed with Jake's initiative. It was strange to consider that his obnoxious grandson really had matured well in the past few years.

"Jake, you need to understand," Lao Shi began, raising his head from his work to look Jake in the eye. "This isn't about playing bodyguards to the students, though that is what most will believe. This is about you and Haley learning about a community that we have sorely distanced ourselves from for far too long. This is about witches and wizards, the single most powerful and dangerous faction of magical creatures, once again working with us and learning to trust us." He closed the drawer and stood by his grandson, who still wore an expression of disappointment and anger. "I know that we are asking much of you and your sister, young dragon, but think positively. We will be the first dragons from the Isle of Draco to socialize with wizards in ages. Even when fulfilling our responsibilities, regional dragons never directly confront most wizards and it makes our jobs all the more difficult."

Jake swept up the pile of dust before dropping it into the trash bin and turning back to his master with a sigh. "I know, G, and that's great. It's just," Jake looked longingly outside the front windows of the shop, "everything was finally feeling _right_. Now, it'll be gone and we'll be stuck on another continent surrounded by strangers for months."

"Life is full of changes, young dragon. Even the mightiest river must alter its course or surely run dry." Lao Shi assured his student.

Jake still seemed troubled, though accepting of the truth in Lao Shi's words. "I know. You're right, gramps." He took a deep breath and turned to his master with a halfhearted smile. "So, how long until we leave? Trix and Spud and not gonna like this when I break it to them."

"We leave in just over a month, though you will not have much time to hang out with your friends, Jake. This mission will take a degree of secrecy and resourcefulness that you are not familiar with, and there are many techniques that I must teach you before then."

Though he wasn't surprised, Jake still hated the news and retaliated with a groan. "Harsh, G. When Trixie comes busting through the shop door, _you_ get to try and calm her down," he joked, walking out of the back door and allowing the magical flames to consume his body, shifting into a dragon. The trip had them all exhausted, and his flight over New York City was so calming that he had forgotten Haley was breaking the news to their folks. He was met at his front door by two outraged parents and a sister still desperately searching for an explanation to placate them. When it came to his mom and dad, Jake knew a lost cause when he saw one and resigned himself to a nice, long, heated discussion.

"This can't be happening," he mumbled, closing the front door and accepting his fate.


	3. Behind the Brick Wall

"What the?..." Jake wondered, as he, Haley, Nerk, Lao Shi, Sun, and Dominic all stood as humans in Lao Shi's electronics shop. Each was gripping their own luggage while holding onto a broken plastic Frisbee in the center of their makeshift circle.

"Remember," his master warned him, "whatever you do, young ones, do _not_ let go."

Jake didn't have long to think about that before he suddenly felt himself lurching to the side, as if falling and spinning all at once. Up and down had disappeared, and Jake was beyond terrified when he suddenly slammed onto his back. Above him he could see the ceiling of a room and felt immensely embarrassed, thinking he'd somehow tripped while gramps was trying to do his magical mojo. The sight of his friends also splayed on the floor beside him, however, relieved his fears, and it only took a quick glance to notice that they were no longer in his grandfather's shop.

"Greetings, everyone!" A cheery voice piped in. Near the entryway to the room, which Jake was now confident was a typical living room given the couches, coffee table, and a few shelves decorated with knick knacks, stood a handsome middle-aged man in a very nice suit. He had short trimmed black hair, though it naturally spiked upwards, a broad and heavy nose, slightly round cheeks, pale blue eyes creased with laugh lines, and he stood back straight and shoulders level. It was an impressive display, all things considered, though Jake's appreciation was dimmed by his lingering disorientation.

He could see the Dragon Masters had maintained their composure somehow, and turned dazed to his grandfather before slurring, "What just happened?"

"That, my good fellow, is called a _Portkey_ ," the gentleman in the doorway replied. "A common wizard's method of transportation when moving in a large group, with the added benefit that anyone can tag along, wizard or otherwise!" The man beamed with joy before suddenly understanding Jake's confusion. "Oh, I'm so sorry young man; I've neglected to introduce myself. My name is Benjamin Stout. Many here simply call me Stout, though in private you of course know me as the English Dragon," he explained while approaching Jake and offering his hand.

Jake accepted the gesture and, with Stout's assistance, rose to his feet and shook his hand in return. "Sorry if we messed up your crib, yo. My name's Jake, Jake Long." Stout seemed pleased and turned to help up Haley and Nerk, each introducing themselves as well in turn. Jake had never met someone so cordial before and wondered if it was because Stout was just exceptionally well mannered or because this was how _all_ Brits acted.

Stout then turned to greet the masters, though they were already well acquainted and quickly dove into small talk about their travel by Portkey and how they felt about the upcoming trip. Jake walked over to the wide living room window and brushed the curtain aside to a see narrow street outside lined with multistoried brick homes so close and thin that they looked like they had been smashed together. The sky was overcast and a few people wandered up and down the sidewalks, going about their business in drab clothes, umbrellas clutched in anticipation of the swollen clouds above.

"You know," Jake began, mumbling to himself, "it really doesn't look that different from New York City."

"Still doesn't beat Sydney, though." Nerk chided, standing next to Jake to look outside. Jake reflexively rolled his eyes.

"Sorry there aren't enough kangaroos and koalas for you, Nerk," Jake said. Now that they had finally arrived in London, a lot of the apprehension that had been building in Jake was starting to ease itself. Completing their journey in what felt like seconds with the Portkey created an illusion that they had not just in fact travelled thousands of miles from his home. "You can always go back if it's too hard for you."

Nerk saw through the provocation and retorted with, "Only if you quit first, mate." Haley, meanwhile, seemed fascinated with the world outside and clearly couldn't contain herself. "Woah now, little sheila, you're gonna go blind if you keep looking all bug-eyed like that," Nerk joked, seeing Haley's excitement.

She turned quickly to him and Jake, her body shaking with anticipation. "Let's go, guys! We can fly around, see the sights, feel the air on our wings! I wonder what British air feels like…" she trailed off.

"In broad daylight? Now Hales, normally _I'm_ the one coming up with bad ideas." Jake countered. The adults had seen their conversation and Jake took the opportunity to include them, asking, "What do you think, G? We've got no plans until tomorrow morning, right?" Even though he knew his grandfather wouldn't allow it, Jake really wanted to get out of the stuffy abode and explore the new city as well.

"Young dragon," Lao Shi began, almost sounding a little disappointed. "We've only just arrived and you already intend to unravel all of the English Dragon's attempts at preserving secrecy? There are more pressing matters to concern ourselves with," Lao Shi finished, turning back to Stout, only to see the man deep in thought with his left arm across his chest and his right hand stroking the stubble lining his chin.

"You know, that may be a splendid idea," Stout mused, the surprise visible on the faces of everyone in the room. "You can prepare for tomorrow by becoming acquainted with the wizarding community! It's decided, we're off to Diagon Alley!" Stout boomed before exiting the room with a flourish, the sounds of his footsteps audibly banging as he feverishly climbed the staircase and ran here and there around the floor above them. He soon returned to the six of them, all still very bemused by the sudden change of events, carrying a pile of grey, heavy woolen cloaks, one already draped around his own shoulders.

"Quickly now!" he encouraged, passing them around to everyone present. "I just received these recently from a good friend of mine. He calls them Concealing Cloaks. They will automatically adjust to the dimensions of your body so as not to allow any onlookers to see what is beneath. However, they are also a terribly hideous color, so they do not make for the best formal attire, to be sure," he finished with a disgusted tone. Once they all held one in hand, he drew their attention to his neck where two sets of drawstrings for the cloak were visible. The first was already noosed, clasping the cloak to his neck. The second remained unknotted and the cords dangling lazily. Stout reached up and tied the two strings together, allowing his audience to watch as the formerly loose cloak gracefully slid over his form and shaped to it perfectly. Even Stout's shoes were hidden entirely, and only his cheery face departed from the sheet of grey that surrounded him.

They all diligently followed suit, soon becoming a crowd of morose travellers blending into the grey-scaled background that was urban London. They walked the streets alongside the unsuspecting humans, Stout having agreed with Lao Shi that even the normally calm and collected Brits would react quite poorly to dragons flying above them. Before long, Stout led them past a bleak little pub and into a back alley where a dead end and a few trash cans awaited them.

"We are nearly there, and now would be a good time to assume your dragon forms," Stout suggested, looking up and down the alley for any wandering passerby. "We wouldn't want anyone seeing me with six humans now, then six dragons at Hogwarts, and somehow manage to put two and two together." The masters nodded in agreement, and grew into their dragon personas, the students soon following their lead. The enchanted cloaks performed well, immediately lengthening to cover their new height, tails, and wings. They were still monstrously large for normal humans or wizards, and even with their wings flattened and tails curled the cloaks still bulged behind them as if they all had hunched backs. Otherwise, with their hoods drawn they did not appear to be anything more than that, unless someone took the time to closely inspect their faces beneath.

Pleased with the results and wearing his silly grin, Stout turned his attention back to the brick wall and closed his eyes in focus. Jake was about to voice his confusion when Stout's hand escaped his cloak and smoothly ran across the surface of the brick wall in front of them. The bricks slid and danced apart, revealing a bustling street beyond filled with some of the most eccentrically dressed people and erratic buildings he had ever seen. Jake unknowingly whispered, "It's even crazier than the Magus Bazaar."

"That is because _this_ ," Stout gestured to everything beyond the arch they now stood beneath, "is Diagon Alley, the hub of all magical merchandise and trade in Great Britain. If you are in need of special alchemical ingredients, lost tomes of knowledge, or anything in between, you will surely find it here." It was so different from the Magus Bazaar, so much to take in and see, that Jake could already feel another headache coming on. He realized the sensation was becoming rather common these days.

As they walked into the growing crowd of snapping hags, boasting warlocks, and rampaging children, the group of cloaked figures began to attract quite a few stares and nervous glances. Lao Shi could feel the unwanted attention and suggested, "Benjamin, why don't you show the young dragons around and answer their questions. We three will do our own…research…in the meantime."

"A marvelous idea!" Stout replied, understanding the dragon's desire to split the intimidating group and embracing his role as tour guide. "We can meet back at the Leaky Cauldron, the pub we passed by, at, say, sundown?" At Lao Shi's approval, he beamed and beckoned Jake, Haley, and Nerk further into the crowd, intent on showing them all he could in the little time they had.

Despite Stout's best efforts at explaining what they came across, Jake's head was still swimming after the first hour. They had toured through shops filled with strange creatures, animal parts moving around in jars, enormous books, and even normal clothing (at least, as far as wizards were concerned). Brooms hovered in window displays with young wizards crowding around to see, though they quickly made room as Jake approached to grovel as well. Haley had been entranced by a seamstress that tailored dresses in the sill of her shop, watching the enchanted needle sew and embroider the silk at the witch's command. They even entered the Gringotts Wizarding Bank after Nerk had asked Stout about the strange coins that the wizards seemed to be exchanging like currency. The building was outstanding, and Jake was surprised to find it run by goblins and not leprechauns, though he had to admit they shared many similarities when one saw Nerk looking at his pile of gems and protectively circled his arms around it.

By the time dusk fell upon the marketplace, most of the shops were closing for the night and the crowds had become trickles of activity. The dragon trio and their 'wizard' guide walked back towards the pub when a thought came to Jake. "Yo, Stout, if you were worried about people linking us to the dragons if we came here as humans, why did you stay the same? Won't people think it's weird for you to be showing us around?"

"Why, of course not!" he said, as if the answer were obvious. "I am, after all, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic. If anything, I'm doing my job by maintaining peace and making sure you three don't cause any trouble!" he added with a laugh at insinuating they needed to be controlled. He soon added, "My apologies, Jake. I thought your grandfather had informed you of my disguise."

"It is pretty convenient, when you think about it." Haley commented, realizing the significance of Stout's acting skills. "Having all of the Ministry of Magic's resources to track down disturbances with magical creatures must make your responsibilities as the English Dragon quite easy to fulfill." They had just reached the Leaky Cauldron and noticed two cloaked dragons sitting at a booth in the corner. Stout led his wards over to the booth and the two Dragon Masters in attendance, Sun and Dominic, stood at their arrival.

Stout couldn't help but chuckle at Haley's intuition. "You've quite the sharp apprentice, Sun!"

The Korean Dragon smiled at the compliment, before suddenly recalling something important. "Lao Shi left to run some last minute errands," Sun explained, "and he said not to wait for him. He will meet us back at your home, Benjamin." The English Dragon simply nodded in understanding.

"In that case, let us be on our way! I fear if we stay any longer, Tom may have a stroke," he joked, nodding in the direction of the man behind the bar giving them glances filled with suspicion and fear. The group briskly left, flying home through the dark sky at the approval of Stout, and relaxed into Benjamin's makeshift floor beds. The time zone change had taken its toll, and the travellers were burnt out. Jake felt a pang of concern for his grandfather, but he trusted his master's judgment and soon drifted off into sleep.

Regardless of how early they had gone to bed, however, Jake still felt exhausted when morning arrived and the small home came to life with the sounds of worried pacing and frantic preparation. Lao Shi had made it back in one piece, though his errands hadn't dulled his nerves, appearing just as anxious as everyone else. Jake did his best to help ease the tension through jokes and his usual unconcerned behavior, he himself of course comforted by his own blind confidence. Their bags packed and cloaks drawn, the dragons stepped into a couple of taxis and departed for King's Cross Station.

They had a train to catch.


	4. A Troubled Journey

"This can't be happening," Harry groaned. He sat on the platform at the top of the staircase of Number 12 Grummauld Place, the home of his godfather Sirius Black. It was a cold, intimidating home filled with dust and foreign memories, but its powerful protective enchantments and location hidden within plain sight made it the ideal base of operations for Dumbledore's private force, the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had reformed the group after Voledmort's return, and every day members came and went, working diligently to gather intelligence on the Dark Lord and his plans. Of course, Harry was kept well out of the way by everyone except Sirius, the only person who didn't think Harry too innocent or naïve to handle the dangers the rest of them were burdened with. His arguments to the contrary proved fruitless, and despite his best efforts here he was, alone and still in the dark, both literally and metaphorically.

The landing was pitch black and he could hear the gentle sounds of sleep from the open door of the bedroom he had just left. The events of the past few days left him in a foul mood and with a constant headache. He had been accused of abusing magic after saving his demented cousin from a soul sucking creature, tried in court in front of the Wizengamot and the Prime Minister, Cornelius Fudge, himself, and somehow rescued from a formerly convinced jury by the ever watchful Dumbledore. This would have been fine had Dumbledore not immediately removed himself from Harry and staunchly ignored him after the trial. The insult had only grown as he and his friends, Hermione Granger and Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George Weasley all received their invitational letters from Hogwarts, along with Prefect positions for both Ron and Hermione.

Harry knew it was selfish of him to resent Ron for being selected as prefect instead of himself, but his pride reminded him of the many occasions he thought he had demonstrated himself to be the superior wizard. Added with his friends' promises to the Order to NOT contact him over the summer break (a slight betrayal he had not taken lightly), and the Daily Prophet's slander of him being an egocentric liar, Harry was less than happy. Sleep had eluded him, though if it was because of his current frustrations or the fear of reliving his most recent and constant nightmare, he couldn't decide. It was all he could do to not shout in frustration as he ruminated alone in the hallway.

The noise of a creaking door below him jogged Harry out of his thoughts. He quickly rose to his feet and prepared to sneak back to his room where Ron and the Weasley twins were still fast asleep. Curiosity gripped him, however, as he leaned carefully around the corner, looking down the staircase where the end of the entry hallway was just visible. He heard two people step into the hallway before the door closed shut, and the sounds of footsteps (and possibly a cane from the scraping sound he heard, though it could have been dragging boots or something similar, Harry thought) approaching the end of the hall. Two figures came into view, one who was clearly Dumbledore in his travel wear, and the other an enormous, clothed figure, easily between six and seven feet tall given how it had to duck slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling. His cloak surrounded him completely, and the hood moving left and right as he examined the hallway was the only distinguishing feature Harry could see.

"Your headquarters is…humble," the figure commented quietly on his surroundings, earning a small laugh from the aged wizard. "Though you still never explained why it was so urgent for me to come here, Dumbledore."

"It was merely a precaution," Dumbledore answered, "in case of an emergency; you will be able to find this place now that I've shown you. Of course, I am not trying to include you in the actions of my group, but it never hurts to be prepared. I hope, of course, that you will never have to return."

The figure, whoever it was, chortled at the comment before countering with, "You and me both."

The two stood silent, though Harry was unsure why until the hood of the unknown person slowly looked up through the winding stairs towards Harry's landing. Harry could only see two dimly glowing points that must have been the figure's eyes before he realized he had been discovered and ducked behind the corner. He still listened intently, trying to catch any remaining conversation. The silence that followed made him fear that they were coming to find him until he heard the voice of the figure continue, "I appreciate you trusting me with this information, Albus. If we are finished, I am eager to return to the others and prepare for tomorrow."

"Of course, my friend," Dumbledore replied as the two walked back to what sounded like the front door. Harry could hear them leave and the thud as the door closed shut once again. He wasn't sure exactly what he had just witnessed, but the fatigue in his body seemed to flow out and remind him of the rest he so desperately needed. He closed his eyes and bundled up beneath his sheets, still wondering about the strange figure he'd seen in the hallway. He'd mentioned "preparing for tomorrow", the day all of the students were leaving for Hogwarts. Harry knew nothing of the man's intentions, but, despite his current distaste for his headmaster, he would have to trust that the two would only be corroborating if it were to further the goals of the Order.

A short lived dream about his still mounting jealousy of Ron's position as prefect later, Harry awoke to blinding light filling his eyes and his best friend shouting at him about getting ready before they missed the train. Harry was still lost in his thoughts and the morning disappeared before his eyes. Suddenly, they were at King's Cross Station and his godfather was wishing him luck in the coming year, along with the usual warnings of being careful and staying safe. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children all quickly filed into the train moments before it began to leave the station. Hermione and Ron had uncomfortably excused themselves to the prefect carriage, and Harry had somehow ended up staring outside a window at the passing greenery like always with Ginny next to him and their friend Neville Longbottom sitting across from them beside a girl Harry only knew as "Loony" Luna, a nickname whose roots he was coming to understand.

Ginny and Neville were busy sharing stories about their summers and recent events, while Luna read an odd magazine upside down with strange, multicolor glasses. Her behavior would normally have begged his curiosity, but Harry couldn't seem to tear himself away from the window. He was lost in his countless concerns when something caught his eye. What he had thought was a typical formation of birds just didn't seem quite right, though he couldn't think of exactly what was off. Their shapes and movements were just so peculiar, but they were far too out of focus for him to truly see them. Memories of the Hungarian Horntail he had been forced to fight a year ago came to his mind, however, as the strange formation flew off into the distance in the same direction the Hogwarts Express was headed.

Deciding he was still deprived of rest, Harry relaxed and tried to gleam what sleep he could from the train ride, anxiously awaiting the moment he could see the towers of Hogwarts on the horizon. For the first time, he realized with a twinge of sadness, Harry was actually afraid of the new school year. His sense of foreboding grew stronger with every churn of the train's engine. He felt abandoned and alone, he wasn't sure how to overcome everything that stood in his way, and somewhere out there was an impossibly powerful wizard trying his best to murder him. It was more than any teenage boy should have to contend with. _As if I have a choice_ , he thought bitterly.

To his disappointment, sleep brought him no comfort. Vivid and terrifying images danced behind his eyelids and stole away his chance at peace.

_He was walking at the summit of a mountain, below him an endless skyline of buildings swallowed in an ocean of yellow lights filling his vision. The wind kicked at the low grasses around him, flowing through his robes and those of the figures at his sides. In front of him stretched a barren field, so wide and empty that he could feel a desperate yearning for it to be filled with ornate columns or soaring towers. The full moon hung in the night sky above him, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of light flash before him._

_"_ _This is it," he whispered airily, drawing his wand from his sleeve and gently waving it before him. The air shimmered, rippling in waves throughout the field._

_The figure to his left sucked in a wheezing breath in response. "Old Magic…as she said, my lord."_

_"_ _Indeed it is…" the man answered. A faint sound drew him to the center of the field, the guttural laugh growing louder as he neared. It's malice was almost tangible, encouraging the tall, pale wizard forward. A large snake followed him through the grass, hissing viciously at the voice._

_"_ _Now, now, Nagini, we mustn't be rude." The man stretched his arm forward, probing the air with his wand before swiftly slashing it downward. Instantly, he was rebounded and the air around him flashed with defiant light. The voice returned, roaring with laughter so loud that the figure to his left threw his hands up to cover his ears._

_"_ _What do we have here?" it sneered. "A wizard? What is the meaning of this?"_

_The figure that had remained unspeaking to the man's right stepped forward, dropping her hood to reveal her aged face and shrewd gaze. "I believe I have found a…solution, master," she answered carefully, her words dripping with subservience._

_"_ _And what is this_ solution _?" the voice asked, disbelief evident in his tone._

_It was the man's turn to speak now as he raised head in superiority. "That would be me. I would be more than happy break through your prison. That is..._ if _we can reach an agreement."_ _  
_

_He was not pleased by the refusing huff that followed from the voice. "As if any_ wizard _could be trusted with a deal, and you are arrogant to think any mere magician could penetrate this magic."_

_The hunched figure to his left hissed angrily, "You dare question the strength, the power..."_

_"Enough, Wormtail." His disciple quickly retreated with a low bow. The man raised his arms in an imploring gesture. "I seek only power…and those strong enough to use it," the man spoke aloud. "The choice is simple: you can either join me and aid in the destruction of all those inferior to us, or remain trapped. You need not trust me, but believe that we share a common enemy, one which I am sure you would relish the opportunity to meet." A wicked grin spread across his face as he bellowed, "_ So _tell me, do you want to be free?"_

_The voice responded with a low grumble that steadily grew louder and louder into the same earsplitting laugh. He let out a single, emphatic, "Yes."_

_With a surge of emotion, his wand flew out once more, a stream of blinding light colliding with the invisible barriers and throwing the world around him out of focus, his own cackling laugh drowning out all other sounds._

_Harry opened his eyes to see the mountain was gone, its distant peaks replaced by a small, foggy cemetery. A tall, gaunt man was holding him by his throat with pure ecstasy lining his face, pressing him against a looming statue. He looked down to see his friend's body lying cold and lifeless in the grass, his eyes glazed and unseeing. The man holding him continued the cackling laughter, a green light from his wand slowly filling Harry's vision…_

Neville shook him awake and Harry shot up, covered in cold sweat and eyeing the robes meant for him in Neville's hands. Though he was concerned, Longbottom didn't ask about Harry's nightmare and left him to change in privacy. The sky was dark outside of the train, and Harry could see the many lit windows in the distance of the school he had once considered, and to some degree still did, his home.

The train began to slow and shake as Harry finished adjusting his tie. Neville popped back into the cabin. "We're here," he said.


	5. As the Crow Flies

"We have arrived," Stout proclaimed. Their group had been soaring over the lush countryside below them for a few hours before Jake had begun to see the parapets of their destination rising out of the hills. They had stayed at King's Cross long enough to see the few suitcases they had brought with them loaded into an empty storage compartment and to spare a few passing words with some of the wizards escorting the train. It sounded like people kept calling the guards 'Horrors', which Jake thought was unsettling, but they seemed polite enough. The students and families had begun arriving soon after, so Stout had led them out of sight to wait for the Hogwarts Express to depart. Once the engine had passed the horizon and the platform was vacant but for them, the dragons unraveled the second drawstrings on their cloaks, causing them to shrink and dangle loosely behind them, and took flight. Soon they had caught up to the train and continued sailing ahead towards the school.

In retrospect, Jake really didn't know what he had thought this trip was going to be like. Given that he'd only ever attended a typical, human school, and the fact that Nigel, the only wizard (sorry, _sorcerer_ ) his age that Jake had ever met, did the same, he just assumed that they would be going somewhere similar in London. That idea was quickly dismissed when Lao Shi had explained the journey plans that morning after successfully waking Jake, who had well overslept. Hogwarts, it turned out, was more of a boarding school, a good distance away from any human towns and secluded in foothills that, strangely enough, couldn't actually be plotted on any geographical map. Hearing this made Jake's separation induced anxiety begin to creep back in, but he was committed to overcoming his homesickness, especially if Nerk was handling it just fine.

The few hours of flight they had shared had also served to distract him, as Stout used the opportunity to fill in some crucial gaps in their knowledge of recent events. First, he reiterated that The Dark Lord, or Lord Voldemort as Dumbledore had referred to him, was one of the most evil and dangerous wizards in history and had mysteriously disappeared over a decade ago after he failed to kill a child known as Harry Potter, _The Boy Who Lived_.

"What's with the fancy title?" Nerk had asked.

"Because the spell Lord Voldemort used, the Killing Curse, _never_ fails." Stout explained, his previous joviality completely gone. "Harry Potter is the only wizard to ever survive it, and Lord Voldemort perished instead. Or so we thought…" This, Stout continued, turned out to be untrue. During a competition in the previous year known as the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Lord Voldemort's followers had managed to plot and steal away both Harry Potter, who had been competing against his will, and another competing student, Cedric Diggory. Ultimately, they had used a ritual involving the Potter boy to resurrect Lord Voldemort. Harry somehow managed to escape. Cedric, however, did not.

As Stout told them all the story of the Potter boy and his struggle against this mad murderer, Jake couldn't help but feel empathetic towards him. He had thought that he had it rough, having the responsibilities of the American Dragon thrust upon him at the age of thirteen without his consent, demanding all of his time and effort. Yet here was another boy, who had lost his parents, been neglected for eleven years, and then magically rescued only to struggle against the most destructive wizard in the world at every turn. A look at his sister and rival next to him revealed that they were feeling exactly the same way. On some level, it worked to steel Jake's resolve for this mission. He had never felt so driven to sacrifice himself before. In fact, it hardly felt like a sacrifice at all.

"The worst of all," Stout continued, looking back at them with genuine rage in his eyes, "is that the world refuses to believe it ever happened. The Ministry openly mocked Potter and Dumbledore, and still does. They claimed Diggory died in an _accident_ , that there is nothing to worry about or _prepare_ for. Their carelessness…their denial…it's _reprehensible_." Stout growled out the last word, emerald flames licking out from the mouth of the dark brown and green dragon. The silence that followed left them all thinking on Stout's words and the gravity of the situation, until he broke in again. "I apologize, that was uncalled for. When it comes to the Ministry of Magic's policies, I can tend to get a bit, well, _heated_." He laughed dryly at his own bad humor.

There was no need for the apology, however. They all felt the same as he did, though now their thoughts turned to how they could help the students if the Ministry of Magic could not. The remainder of the flight was filled with small talk, casual questions about the school, its classes, what a 'muggle' was (Nerk kept hearing it in Diagon Alley and had been thoroughly confused), how to behave, what the wizards knew about the Dragons of Draco Isle (thankfully, virtually nothing), and other topics of the like.

Now, however, they approached the outskirts of a small, crooked town that rested on a hilltop just down the way from the Hogwarts grounds. The world remained clueless as to the truth about Benjamin Stout, and, since he had not boarded the train, he intended to act as though he had 'apparated' to this town known as Hogsmeade to meet with the Dragons of Draco Isle before escorting them to the castle itself. After asking shyly, Stout informed Haley that apparating was essentially teleportation for wizards, a common means of individual travel. The group separated temporarily, with Stout "meeting" them at The Three Broomsticks Inn for a quick butterbeer before continuing on their journey.

"You've really thought this through very well, Benjamin. Though, a life such as yours would inevitably demand a great degree of charisma and cunning," Lao Shi complimented the English Dragon, who simply accepted the compliment with a nod. The six dragons followed closely behind his human form, their cloaks double knotted to conceal their forms. Iron gates were visible now farther up the dirt path.

"I would say that I enjoy the mystery and planning involved in my line of work, but, to be honest, I miss the life I had before my mentor passed." Stout's eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, as though he were lost in a memory. "It's difficult acting the spy, surrounded by strangers who think of you as a friend, knowing you can never trust them and how they'll never truly know the person they think of when they hear your name." Stout's shoulders drooped and Jake felt pity for the man, just before he straightened right back up and threw his hands behind his head with a hearty laugh.

"Then again, think of all the good that has come with it! Honestly, Great Britain has never been more peaceful, as far as magical creatures are concerned. It's been so quiet in my department that if I didn't know better, I'd wager Fudge thinks I've been skimping on reports!" He had regained his cheerful demeanor, and frankly Jake wasn't sure what to think about the man. "Though with how things are going now, I doubt it'll remain like this for long…" Stout commented darkly. He was complicated and uncertain, but Jake already admired him immensely. The way he balanced his responsibilities as a dragon with his own life, Jake thought, was remarkable, an example he wished he could learn to follow.

As they neared the iron gate that loomed ahead, Stout regained his semi-formal composure and whispered "It's show time, gents!" to the dragons behind them. They each checked themselves over to make sure the Cloaks of Concealment were working correctly with hoods drawn and followed the department head up to the figure waiting beside the cold, wrought bars.

" _Filius!_ " Stout boomed, arms thrown wide as he hailed the short man in black and blue robes guarding gate. "It has been far too long, my good man, what _have_ you been up to?"

The man seemed to have been dozing judging by how high he jumped when his name had been shouted. His look of panicked confusion turned to uncertainty as he tried to identify who was speaking to him. When the realization hit him, his eyes opened wide and his smile stretched from ear to ear. Stout seemed to have that effect on people, allowing them to absorb some of his gushing joy until they were nearly as cheery as he was.

"Benjamin! It _is_ a pleasure to see you again!" the man returned, shaking hands with Stout whole heartedly as if he'd just found his best friend. The two continued into their greetings for several minutes, even going so far as to reminisce about old memories involving a centaur stampede, when Stout seemed to be bemused and upset with himself.

"I do apologize, dear Filius, but I'd completely forgotten to properly introduce our guests." Stout turned to the cloaked figures behind him, who Filius had seen but clearly paid no mind to, until now. His eyes grew even wider, if that were possible, and his mouth gaped open for a moment before he collected himself. "Allow me to introduce the liaisons of the Dragons of Draco Isle." Stout gestured to the group with a bow and stepped aside to allow them and Filius proper room to speak.

Filius still looked shaken, but approached the group politely. "It is an incredible honor to welcome you all to our school," the man swooned humbly, bowing so low that Jake was afraid he'd tip over. "I am Filius Flitwick, the Charms Professor and Head of Ravenclaw House here at Hogwarts." He straightened back up, his pride in his house and the school he worked at filling his form. "This year will be improved beyond imagining with you here to help forge new bonds and encourage our students. Please, follow me to the castle." He finished with a perfect turn, facing the gate and waving his wand to swing the doors open. Together, the troupe of dragons and men walked toward the castle, the lit windows burning brightly against the night sky, dimming the stars and radiating warmth from within. Jake was finding it hard not to stare in amazement and had to force himself to breathe deeply, calming his racing heart.

The little man ushered them over a large stone bridge and onto the grounds of the castle, through a calming courtyard, and into what appeared to be the main hall. To their left, two enormous doors stood open revealing a grand dining room, currently barren except for four long rows of benched tables. To their right, an intimidating staircase led up into the bowels of the ancient and intimidating castle, filled with all manners of who knows what. They filed into a small room just off to the side that seemed to be used as a trophy room of sorts. Plaques, medals, and statues of all makes and kinds lined the room, filling shelves, pedestals, and glass cases until there hardly seemed to be room to breathe.

"The Hogwarts Express should be arriving soon with the students. Once they've reached the castle, the First Dinner Ceremonies will begin, first with the sorting of the new students into their respective houses, followed by key announcements by the headmaster and other professors. Once those are finished, we would be delighted to introduce you to the hall before we begin the feast!" Filius was struggling to keep himself together in front of his esteemed guests, though nothing could stop his excitement from leaking out and infecting the dragons as well.

"We will wait patiently for our cue, Filius," Lao Shi assured with a small chuckle at the man's giddy air. "However, if it is alright with the headmaster, we would prefer to make introductions after the feast. We are all very tired, and would like a bit of rest before we meet the students."

"Oh, absolutely!" Filius trilled, "We certainly don't want to rush any of you, and I'm sure the students will be much more obliging after their meal. Benjamin, I entrust you've informed them of where we've prepared their resting quarters for afterwards?" Stout nodded confidently, easing Filius's nerves a bit. A small cave had been established near the base of the large outcropping that the castle itself rested on, near the docks of the lake where the first-years would soon be landing. It was protected with warding charms so that only the dragons could enter or leave, and held hallways leading to private rooms deep within the cave, should they desire more privacy.

"Well then, I look forward to receiving you all shortly in the main hall. I will see about sending some plates of food for you as well. Please, you need only let Benjamin or any professors know if there is anything you require." Filius reminded them before politely bowing and excusing himself. Everyone let out a collective sigh as the door shut, worry pouring off of them in waves. Lao Shi's quick thinking had bought them a little more time to calm themselves, which they desperately needed. Haley was practically a statue, frozen in place and staring at nothing in particular. Nerk had begun to pace in a circle, the nails of his clawed feet clicking on the floor. Their masters, too, seemed extremely tensed, with folded arms and downcast glances. Jake thought he might just lose his mind when Stout finally broke the ice.

"Everyone, please, relax. I know the events of the next few months can determine whether or not we finally reconcile our relationships with the wizarding community, but I have complete faith that this will work." He stepped into the center of them all, hoping to give them a focal point to latch onto. "You will be surprised, trust me. You all have much more in common with the people here than you might like to think!" he laughed, once again lifting what felt like enormous weights from Jakes shoulders.

Before they could speak further, however, voices could be heard in the distance. A _lot_ of voices. Droves of scuffling feet and chattering mouths were soon passing right by the door they were all leaning against. There was laughter, yelling, excitement, fear, every emotion you could imagine welling up from hundreds of young witches and wizards as they continued on to the Great Hall. Eventually, these sounds died out as well, and the doors to the hall could be heard clanking shut.

Now all they had to do was wait.

Whatever meager strength Stout may have managed to instill in them had quickly evaporated, and he didn't even attempt to harden their resolve this time. Soon once more, voices could be heard approaching the hall, snapping everyone in the room back from their nervous pacing to sit next to the door, trying to hear a bit of what was occurring outside. It sounded like a woman was lecturing, describing the history of the school in brief and the four houses that students were divided into. It was easy to tell from their ragged breathing and shuffling steps that these kids were terrified, and the realization made Jake feel ashamed. Here he was cowering behind a wooden door while _eleven year old children_ , the same age as Haley, were walking forward to be forced into a group filled with strangers they'd have to live with for the next seven years. He almost wanted to laugh at it all, but bit his tongue for fear of being heard.

The woman stopped speaking and opened the doors to the Great Hall, allowing the first-years to flow in for their sorting. The doors closed again after them, blocking most of the noise from inside the hall. The lack of information was driving him insane; it felt like knowing that a monster was creeping around the corner and you couldn't even see or hear it coming.

_We didn't come all this way to just hide in a closet until someone told us to leave_ , Jake griped to himself. He gripped the door handle and gently cracked it open, verifying with his eyes what his ears had told him: no one was in the hallway outside of the large wooden doors.

" _What are you doing?!_ " Lao Shi hissed at him, as Jake opened the door and took in his surroundings.

"Getting a better view," he said absentmindedly before tugging the second knot of his cloak loose. The wool untightened and dangled loosely behind him and Jake stretched his wings after having kept them folded and cramped beneath the cloak. The ceiling above him was sealed, but the doors to the grounds were still open. He flew out and up to the top of the roof of the Great Hall, noticing the small side windows had no panes. Clambering beside one, he could see and hear below the crowd of students watching intently as the first-years one by one sat on a stool and had their houses shouted out by a drab, pointed hat, receiving a cheer from their new families as they moved to join them.

Soon, the last of the new students was fleeing towards the table beneath the yellow banners and the tall woman Jake guessed had been giving the lecture earlier was carrying the stool and hat out of a side door. Dumbledore rose from his seat long enough to say a few words and wave out his hands, all of the tables suddenly overflowing with mounds of food. The display was jaw dropping, and Jake suddenly found himself wishing they had accepted Filius' offer to join the feast when he saw Nerk motioning to him from below. Some of the elves that served the castle had been kind enough to bring a few platters of food to the trophy room for them, and the dragons couldn't help but devour the delicious spread.

"So how was your _view_ , young dragon?" Lao Shi asked Jake, who had been caught with a mouthful of pork chops and baked potato. He chewed furiously and washed it down with a gulp of something that looked like orange juice, but tasted like pumpkins to his surprise.

"You know, G, outside of the wandering ghosts, funny uniforms, and floating candles, it really was just like a school cafeteria," he answered. "They were all just hanging out like normal kids. I think a few of the newbies were close to puking when they put the hat on them, though," he chuckled to the disapproving glare of his master. The dragons continued their light discussion for a while longer, relaxing now that their stomachs had been filled, when the sounds of conversation that had been growing louder from the Great Hall quickly died down. The dragons noticed and Jake quickly swept out of their make-shift dining room to return to his perch above the hall.

Jake couldn't pretend to understand the ceremonies, nor why everyone seemed to hate the small woman dressed in disgusting amounts of pink that had given a boring speech about "preservation" or something. He did, however, see the magic in the air around the students. Not the literal kind, mind you, though the fake sky below the roof was a nice touch. No, it was how the students looked at one another spreading joy and laughter, losing all worry when they found their comrades and fell into the seat next to them. It reminded him of Trixie and Spud, sending a surge of remorse through him. His high school had begun classes last week, and missing the start of a new year with his friends had made his insides feel like they were being crushed.

"And finally, for our last announcement," Jake recognized the smooth but powerful voice of Dumbledore, the wizard they had met on the Isle of Draco, "I would like to introduce you all to my good friend and advisor, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, _Benjamin Stout!_ " Dumbledore announced, as Stout walked beaming from a side entrance near the head of the hall towards Dumbledore's podium to a politely clapping student body.

"That's our cue, Jake," Haley whispered in his ear. Jake was startled to see her and Nerk had joined him at the window, though he hadn't been paying much attention. "Let's get back to gramps and the others."

Jake nodded in agreement, and the group quickly flew down back through the hallway doors, meeting their anxiously beckoning dragon masters. The trio quickly landed, folded in their wings and tails, and knotted the cords on their cloaks, the fabric quickly covering them scale, claw, and all. Stout sounded like he was getting close to finishing whatever speech he was making as Lao Shi lined them up, standing two abreast with master and apprentice side by side, Jake and himself leading the group, Nerk and Dominic following them, and Haley and Sun in back. With a last assuring nod from Lao Shi, they all raised their hoods, double checked their cloaks, and faced the imposing doors before them.

The two ancient slabs of intricately carved wood began to open in front of them, the lights from the hall beyond pouring into the eyes of the dragons. As Stout was fond of saying, _it was_ _show time_.


	6. The Dragons of Draco Isle

"It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts," Hermione finished, her eyes filled with concern and distrust. Harry couldn't blame her after how they'd handled Voldemort's return and the ensuing fallout over the past few months. If there was one thing that Hogwarts definitely didn't need right now, it was the Ministry's fingers digging in and trying to 'control' it.

"And finally, for our last announcement," Dumbledore's voice had suddenly boomed louder than when he'd been giving dates for Quidditch tryouts and the like, snapping everyone in the hall's attention back toward him. He paused to make sure he had all of them focused before continuing, "I would like to introduce my good friend and advisor, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, _Benjamin Stout!_ " He clapped as he backed away from the podium, giving room for the man approaching from the side door behind the head table. The man was all smiles, almost annoyingly so, Harry thought, waving at the students and bowing lightly before the headmaster before standing at Dumbledore's podium.

"Greetings all, and thank you very much headmaster, though let's be honest, you _never_ take my advice," Stout joked with Dumbledore, who smiled happily in response.

"My dad's told me about him," Ron chipped in after the clapping had died down. "He says he's played cards with him before, supposed to be the nicest guy in the Ministry."

"No kidding," Harry commented. The grin on his face only seemed to get bigger as he spoke, it was astonishing his face wasn't cramping from the effort. Harry was just glad his seemed sincere after having to endure the plastered excuse for a grin that the Umbridge woman had worn.

"Welcome everyone back to another wonderful year at Hogwarts!" Stout continued. "I know that after last year's events, and the rumors that have followed, it has been a troubling summer for us all." His face fell in remorse.

"Great, _more_ of this," Harry groaned, sick of everyone in the Ministry playing this coy game of diversion with Diggory's death. He earned a quick _Ssshh!_ from Hermione before she turned back towards Stout.

He lifted his eyes in determination, picking up where he'd left off. "Despite its tragic end, the Triwizard Tournament did help us forge many new friendships with our fellow witches and wizards from around the world, friendships that we will all cherish for the rest of our lives. It ultimately made us all stronger, and it is because of this that the Ministry and the headmaster together have agreed to allow Hogwarts to once again act as host to a new group of individuals we soon hope to also count as dear friends."

The Great Hall was immediately abuzz with whispering, both of excitement and apprehension. "This can't be good," Ron mumbled, and Harry had to agree. He felt a ball of uncertainty building in his stomach, memories of the previous year gnawing at the back of his mind. Dumbledore quickly rose to stand beside Mr. Stout, his presence bringing the room back to silence without having to say a word.

"These people have defended magical creatures around the world since time immemorial, and they are as powerful as they are wise and intelligent. Little is known about them or their homeland, the Isle of Draco (Hermione inhaled sharply), but you will all soon find that we share much in common with one another." Mr. Stout recited his explanation carefully, but the excitement in his voice was building steadily. Hermione eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Unbelievable, it _can't_ be," she kept whispering, shaking her head slowly, her frizzed brown hair bouncing with the motion.

"Of course you know who they are, you _would_ know," Ron said exasperated, not impressed with her usual display of know-it-all intelligence.

"No, Ronald, I _don't_. That's just it, though; _no one_ knows anything about them. Even the Ministry of Magic hasn't had contact with them in generations." Hermione looked ready to leap out of her seat and track down the mystery guests herself.

"But who's _them_ , Hermione?" Harry begged. He hated feeling out of the loop on important news like this. She turned to answer, but the headmaster's voice drew her attention back to the front of the hall.

"This," Dumbledore began, standing beside Mr. Stout, his voice clear but stern, "is a priceless opportunity for us to rekindle friendships between magical creatures and the wizarding community that have been lost for hundreds of years. They are a noble and dignified race, and I expect you all to treat them with the respect and courtesy that they deserve, as you would any of your peers or professors. I am not exaggerating when I say that you are all representing witches and wizards around the world throughout the course of their stay." Dumbledore finished turning back to allow Mr. Stout to finish.

"Wait, did he just say 'race'? As in, they aren't human?" Ron whined. The memory of their last nonhuman 'guests' repeatedly trying to steal the souls of the students in their third year brought chills to Harry, who suddenly wished to be anywhere but sitting in the Great Hall.

"Of course not, they're…" Hermione started, only to be interrupted once more.

"With that said, it is time for introductions!" Mr. Stout lifted his arms from beneath his cloak towards the entrance of the hall, the doors slowly creaking open, revealing a band of large figures completely covered in thick, grey cloaks. They entered the hall, their fabric brushing against the floor and muffling a clattering sound, walking down the center isle in pairs towards Mr. Stout. There were six of them in total, and Harry suddenly realized why they seemed so familiar to him.

"Wait, one of them was at Grimmauld Place last night…" Harry started.

"Please join me in welcoming our esteemed and honored guests, the _Dragons of Draco Isle!_ "

Hermione was nearly on her feet, along with half of the students in the hall. Gasps of surprise filled the air, but everyone stayed focused on the group, sparing no time for gossip, as they neared the edge of the student tables and came to a halt. The hood of the taller of the two figures in front rose upward, looking at Stout and Dumbledore.

"We thank you for your kind words, Mr. Stout and headmaster," the figure thanked, his voice sounding aged and patient with an Asian accent. The front of his cloak parted as two arms appeared, tipped with black claws and covered in dark blue scales. He reached upward and slid back the hood of his coat, revealing the head of a blue dragon with light green patterning over his eyes, pointed ears, an elongated snout with long white whiskers trailing off of it, and a white mane of hair covering his scalp and extending down his back and into his coat. The others followed suit, revealing a crimson red dragon next to him, a striped yellow and green dragons behind them, and teal and pink dragons in the rear. The majority of the students were still stunned by the reveal when Dumbledore addressed them.

"We cannot possibly thank you all enough for agreeing to join us this year. We can only hope to repay you with as much knowledge and friendship as we can muster."

"And we look forward to sharing our hearts and minds as well," the blue dragon modestly replied.

Though Mr. Stout had claimed the ministry had helped orchestrate the arrangement, it seemed that Professor Umbridge had not been informed. Her face betrayed every ounce of disgust and hatred flowing through her bulging veins, and Harry was certain the dragons had noticed. He had seen the smaller pink one in the back eyeing the woman and whisper into the ear of the tall teal one next to it, who simply replied with a stern nod.

"The Dragons of Draco Isle will be sitting in on some of your classes, observing the lessons and learning about our culture and way of life. However, they are also here as our guests, and should you wish to learn more about them, as with any friendship, you need only ask," Dumbledore announced to the room. The terrified looks that most of the students were still giving the dragons practically shouted _fat chance_ at the headmaster's words. The dragons themselves seemed equally distressed, eyeing the crowd around them warily.

"Well it has been a long journey for you all, I am sure. Please, allow me to show you to your accommodations," Mr. Stout offered. Before the blue dragon that Harry assumed was their leader could respond, the red dragon nudged his shoulder, nodding to the large windows of the wall in front of them. The blue dragon paused, whispered a couple words to the dragons behind him, and finally turned back to a confused Mr. Stout.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Stout, but you have done more than enough for us already." He turned now to Dumbledore, asking, "If it is alright with you headmaster, we'd prefer to take the… _quick_ way home."

Dumbledore took a moment before smiling broadly in understanding, laughing his answer of, "As you wish." A wave of his hand had the floating candles above skirting to the edges of the room.

The blue dragon looked back to his comrades and nodded. They all seemed to fumble with their cloaks when the fabric suddenly unraveled and shrunk, revealing the rest of their huge, intimidating bodies. Except for the slightly shorter pink dragon, they each stood easily at almost seven feet tall, the wings and tails that had been hidden beneath the wool all flared out to their full length.

"Bloody _hell_!" Ron exclaimed, along with several others around them. If anyone had failed to be surprised before, they certainly were now. The blue dragon, curiously the only one without wings, waved his arm, staring intently at the large window at the top center of the front wall. The panes disappeared into thin air, earning even more gasps from their audience.

" _Brilliant_ ," Harry and Hermione mumbled in unison. The wandless magic was indeed impressive, though they were truly awed as the dragons, led by the big blue one twisting into the air, beat their wings and took flight, first doing a touring circle above the tables before soaring through the open window in a line, out into the night sky. Cheers had spread throughout the crowd of students during the display, and rounding applause chased the dragons out of the hall, the window pane reappearing behind them. Dumbledore allowed their excitement to continue for a bit longer, relishing in the successful _introductions_ , before again reining them in.

"I sincerely hope this semester at Hogwarts will be one to remember. It is like always, however, up to you all to make it so. Now, it is time to rest so off to bed! Pip pip!" The dismissed students began filing out of the hall, no one talking about anything other than the Dragons of Draco Isle, Hermione included.

"This is incredible! Imagine everything they could teach us about magical creatures or the magic that they use!" she obsessed as her and Ron gathered the new first years and prepared to show them the way to the Gryffindor common room.

"You might want to try meeting them first, dissections can come later," Harry teased. The new students looked downright puny amidst the throng of students climbing the stairs towards the dormitories. They finally reached the top, and after Ron had provided the password ( _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ ) to the Fat Lady they all filed into the familiar and welcoming Gryffindor common room. Harry left Ron and Hermione to give the first years their ground rules and headed for his room. As he was opening the door, he could hear the voices inside of Dean and Seamus excitedly yammering away.

"…if she knew about the dragons too, she definitely would have never let me come back," Seamus said while hanging up his usual Quidditch posters.

"Hey guys," Harry greeted, setting his things down next to his trunk by the dresser, preparing for bed. "Who wasn't going to let you come back, Seamus?"

"Oh…uh," Seamus hesitated, frozen in the middle of flattening out his poster. "Well…it's me mam. She fought pretty hard to not let me come back this year because of…well…"

"Because of what?" Harry pried. There were a few answers he could think of, though he had a feeling it was the one he least wanted to hear.

"Well…because of you, I guess, well I mean you _and_ Dumbledore." Seamus sat stiffly on his bed. "It's just that no one still knows for sure what happened with you and…Diggory. If you'd just…" Seamus was interrupted by Ron walking into the room to join them, seeing Seamus on his bed talking to Harry, who was standing with his hands balled into fists, glaring straight at Seamus.

"What's…up guys?" Ron asked carefully. Harry looked on the verge of bursting before he turned to Ron and answered with, "Nothing, just Seamus informing me that I'm a liar and Dumbledore is a daft old man." He threw his wand onto the nightstand beside his bed, laid down, and drew the curtains closed around him before Seamus could think of a retort. Soon, he too retreated to the comfort of his closed curtains. Ron looked to Dean, who merely shrugged his shoulders, and Neville, who had come in behind him and was just as confused. Ron simply shook his head and found his own bed to fall apart in.

Even with the dragons here, Harry couldn't escape the past few months and instead tried to lose himself to sleep. It was difficult to see anything outside in the dark night through the gap in his curtains, but just before Harry drifted away he was _sure_ he had seen a flash of red streak past his window.


	7. Tempers and Toads

The dragons sat, cloaks hanging loosely, at the end of the table sitting beneath blue banners, the head table just a few steps away. The morning sun was already shining through the windows of the Great Hall when they had entered, most of the tables still empty. The few students that were present when they arrived had struggled, not sure whether to gape at them in lingering wonder or to duck their heads and try to meld with the tables below them. The dragons had stood for a bit, unsure of where to go, when Haley had broken the tension.

" _Ooohhh_ ," Jake heard her coo, walking quickly down the middle isle and stopping by a girl with silver blonde hair who had been reading something while wearing the most ridiculous glasses Jake had ever seen. "You've got a pair of Spectrespecs too?" she asked the girl.

The two started chatting and the rest of them, still unsure of what to do, simply followed and sat at the vacant far end of the same table. Spaced along it were platters of various breakfast delights, and they all reached for the nearest plate and started tucking in. Before long, the hall was close to full with students all chatting about what they hoped their first classes would be and what professors they liked or hated. Jake was stuffing his face with sausages and looking around the room, noticing that many of those attending were giving him funny looks.

"Young dragon, you could at least _try_ to act civilized," Lao Shi scolded, nodding to his greasy claws and untouched silverware.

"C'mon, G, cut the Am-Drag some slack," he snatched a bowl of oatmeal from the center of the table and began daintily scooping it up with a dramatic show of effort, earning an eye roll from his Dragon Master. Nerk snickered from across the table, having finished his third or fourth buttered crumpet, until hundreds of owls flew in through the rafters and began hailing letters and packages all over the students below. The dragons all reflexively jumped in surprise, but quickly regained their composure when they realized it was nothing more than mail time. A few students at the green table had noticed and snickered quietly, though everyone else was either too kind or terrified of the dragons to make any comment.

There was still a decent amount of bench space between the dragons and the nearest students in black and blue robes (which meant they belonged to the house with the raven on it, if Jake recalled correctly). Haley and Luna seemed to be emanating their own little bubble of student repulsion as well, empty seats surrounding their magazine reading session. Most of the students were preparing to leave when professors began handing out slips of paper, which Jake soon discovered were their class schedules.

"Y'know, mates, we haven't talked about how we're gonna divvy up which classes we watch," Nerk asked the four other dragons. "Are we staying together, splitting up…?"

"Way ahead of you, kid," Dominic replied, handing Nerk his own slip that looked just like the ones the students were receiving. "You and I will tail the sixth-year students, Jake and Lao Shi have the fifth-years, and Haley and Sun get the first-years. Dumbledore suggested that we stayed close to your age groups." Sun suddenly remembered the forms and beckoned Haley to return so that she could give one to her, while Lao Shi dug Jake's out of his cloak.

"I really like Luna, she's very sweet but people kept whispering jokes about her," Haley said as she sat down by Sun and began looking through her list. Jake was looking over his own, the subjects giving him mixed feelings of excitement and concern. Potions seemed interesting, but what even was Defense Against the Dark Arts?

"Potter and Weasley, where are you two…" Jake heard the woman that had been guiding the first-years the night before asking aloud over the table across the aisle from them. His head snapped up in recognition, as did those of some of the dragons beside him. They watched as she found the two students and handed them their slips, one a tall and lanky boy with flaming red hair and freckles, the other a short boy with messy, jet black hair, green eyes, and wiry, round glasses resting on his nose.

"Mr. Potter is the shorter of the two," Lao Shi clarified. Jake nodded, noticing that the boy seemed to be upset about something, his shoulders slumped and his cheek resting on his hand as he toyed with his food. His friend seemed much more distressed about the schedule he had received, though Potter only considered his own for a moment before returning to his half eaten meal.

"Well someone's not having a good day," Nerk joked, also turning back to finish his oatmeal. Jake kept looking at the boy, searching for _something_ , when Potter looked up and saw that the red dragon sitting at Ravenclaw table was staring at him. Their eyes met for a few seconds before he looked down and began packing up his things, quickly leaving the hall with the Weasley boy and a girl with frizzy brown hair trailing after him.

"You _know_ that staring is impolite," Lao Shi chided, having noticed the exchange. "He must already receive unwanted attention from his peers; he does not need it from us."

"Looks like Jakeroo's got a _boyfriend_ ," Nerk teased. Jake wrapped his tail around Nerk's bench and flipped it out from under him, sending him sprawling to the floor. Nearby students gasped in terror until they saw Jake trying, and failing, to contain his laughter between clenched teeth. None of them yet knew what the students of Hogwarts had expected of the now famous Dragons of Draco Isle, but they could tell that it certainly wasn't, well, _this_.

The clock tower began to toll as Nerk got back to his feet, everyone quickly rushing off to their first lessons. The dragons went their separate ways, Lao Shi leading the way for Jake with a set of written directions that Dumbledore had provided them. Though he and his friends were long gone, Jake couldn't take his mind off of the Potter boy, hoping that he'd somehow cross paths with him later on.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked as she sat next to Harry, everyone filing into the room for History of Magic. Ron plopped down on his other side, a look of intense boredom already creeping through his face.

"If it's about Seamus, Harry, you know everyone thinks he's buck out of order," Ron said dismissively. Seamus had dashed out of their dorm that morning, clearly not wanting to stay in the vicinity of Harry any longer than he had to. Even now, he had found the seat farthest from Harry in the room, right next to the desk of Professor Binns.

"It's not just him," Harry explained, "Everyone's looking at me like I've got the plague, whispering and pointing when I walk by. Even the bloody dragons think I'm a freak." He tossed his quill down on his parchment, knowing full well he probably wouldn't take any notes.

"Harry, the Dragons of Draco Isle haven't even been here for a day, when did they ever act like that?" Hermione asked. Harry found her defensive tone over the dragons was rather annoying.

"What, you didn't see the way they gawked at me when McGonagall handed us our schedules? The red one looked like he was ready to attack me, the way he stared."

"Harry…" Hermione started comforting, before Binns began droning his lecture. She quickly sighed and began scribbling her notes, Harry attempting to do so as well before losing focus after the first five minutes. Playing games with Ron helped pass the time; though he had a feeling he'd be begging Hermione for her notes when it came time for their first exam.

His day did not seem to be getting better, either. They had run into Cho Chang on their way to potions, only to have Harry get flustered with awkward speech and Ron assault her with questions about her favorite Quidditch team. Hermione looked about ready to strangle Ron by the time they'd reached the dungeons.

Snape appeared to be having just as bad a day as Harry, judging by the malice in his eyes as he gave everyone the usual welcoming speech about having to deal with them for one less year. Once he thought about it, Harry couldn't think of a day when Snape had actually seemed happy, though he had little time to consider it before the professor had set them about their obscenely difficult brewing assignment. One hour and a dungeon filled with reeking fumes later, Harry thought that his potion, though not looking as it should, was at least relatively decent.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?" he heard his least favorite professor ask over his shoulder.

_Wonderful_ , he thought before answering, "The Draught of Living Death, sir." He knew from experience that retorting with Snape would get him nowhere, though that didn't make taking his blatantly targeted hatred any more enjoyable. After humoring his questions for a minute, Harry had realized his mistake (forgetting to add syrup of hellebore at the right time) and now stood humiliated by an empty cauldron, Snape waltzing away and demanding samples from the rest of the class.

Having packed up earlier than the others, Harry had managed to reach the Great Hall and begin eating his lunch before Hermione and Ron arrived to join him. Hermione had tried to comfort him again, though Harry was too lost in self-pity to appreciate it. It only took her and Ron bickering like they usually did for Harry to lash out at them. They stared in shock as he quickly rose, gathered his things, and headed to leave the hall. He wasn't hungry anymore and just wanted to get this terrible day over with.

He'd been so focused on the satisfaction of seeing Ron and Hermione's surprised faces that he turned the corner out of the Hall and slammed right into the scaled chest of the large teal dragon. The dragon, of course, barely flinched, the recoil sending Harry reeling backwards on his heels.

"Whoa there," the dragon said, managing to catch the front of Harry's robes in one of its claws before he completely lost balance. He'd regained his footing and looked up at its face as it asked with concern, "Are you alright?"

"Yah, I'm…uh…sorry, that was my fault," he trailed off, acting like a confused child for the second time that day.

"It's alright," she laughed soothingly, Harry now noticing the feminine sound to her voice. She must have been able to see how stressed he was because she gently smiled and placed the clawed hand that had caught his clothes on his shoulder. "Sometimes, we all need to stop and take a deep breath." She breathed in deeply and then exhaled, smiling once more before letting go and heading into the hall.

He felt a little dumbfounded but listened to the dragon's advice, taking in a long, deep breath. It felt nice, actually, so he went and took another, and then a third. Then he turned, walked back into the hall, and found his friends right where he'd left them.

Hermione saw him coming and was halfway through saying, "Listen, Harry, I know it's been a rough day for you, but…" before Harry cut her off mid-sentence.

"I know, and I'm sorry, Hermione, honest."

Hermione looked even more surprised than before, a tinge of red sneaking into her cheeks. "Well, it's quite alright," she replied.

"No, it's not. I got angry at you when you were only trying to help and it wasn't fair."

"Harry, honestly, it's okay. We're all a little on edge. It's only halfway through the day and we've already got two essays to write. They weren't kidding when they said that O.W.L.s were torture," she finished with a teetering laugh. Harry was thankful for her forgiveness. He already had the rest of the school breathing down his neck and he really didn't need Hermione or Ron to join them any time soon.

Divination, Ron and Harry's next period, was as disappointing and annoying as Harry had come to expect, the trip back down Professor Trelawney's silver ladder affording him a sigh of relief. Harry pulled out his list to see what was next as they descended the spiral staircase, seeing Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Umbridge woman. Considering that he knew nothing about her, he'd decided to give her one chance, even though she was Fudge's lapdog. For all he knew, she could turn out entirely tolerable, even if her choice in clothing hurt his eyes.

The two crossed the threshold into the classroom, finding Hermione already seated and waiting. Harry dropped his bag by his desk and turned to ask Hermione about her last class, when he noticed that she was watching the back of the room. He turned to see two dragons, the dark blue one and the red one that had stared him down that morning, seated in oversized chairs in the back of the room and whispering to one another. The red one noticed Harry watching and returned his gaze. It looked like he was searching for something in Harry's eyes, until he shifted his focus to something near the front of the room.

Umbridge had just entered from her office and was asking for everyone to be seated. Harry sat down and took out his utensils and wand. Umbridge had already demanded everyone wish her a good afternoon, which Harry thought was a bit trivial. It was when she asked them to put away their wands that he started to think about the one chance she had flying straight out the window.

* * *

Before Jake realized it, he was back in school like nothing had ever changed. The first class he sat in on was Potions down in the dungeons of the castle, which frankly had frightened Jake to the point where Lao Shi almost had to drag him into the dark corridors. Professor Snape was even more terrifying. When the two had entered the room, they had approached him, cloaks drawn, for the typical introductions.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Lao Shi had begun, both him and Jake bowing gently to the slick, imposing man. "Thank you for allowing us to join your lesson, we will make sure not to interfere. Where would you like us to watch?"

He had remained silent for a moment, examining the both of them with extremely shrewd glances, before replying slowly with a slight sneer, "It is my pleasure, and you may remain in the far corner by the door. Do not touch anything. Do not distract the students." He gestured to two seats already set beside the entrance.

The harsh tone caught Jake off guard, but Lao Shi humbly nodded once more. "Very well," he answered, leading Jake to their seats. The students were already filling the room, many so worried that they didn't even notice the dragons. Jake soon learned what was giving them such distress, watching as Snape carried out his lesson while constantly harassing the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students on their techniques and attention to detail. One girl broke down in tears after being reprimanded for forgetting an ingredient, the neon green fumes from her cauldron making animal shaped clouds that danced around her head.

Thankfully he had paid no mind to the dragons, who simply observed from the back of the room as the witches and wizards went about their difficult task. Jake was surprised to find that he was familiar with much of the work they were conducting, having helped their own resident guardian and alchemist, Fu Dog, carry out several similar, if not more complex, brewing sessions over the years. He had wanted to step in and help one Hufflepuff boy when he saw him completely misinterpreting a crucial step, but the threat of retaliation from Snape, and his dragon master in turn, was more convincing. By the time class had ended, everyone was covered in filth and sweat, grateful to be out of that classroom.

The same could be said for the next subject, one that never failed to make Jake shudder in distaste. _History_. It seemed even magical teenagers had to sit through the most boring class ever conceived, and the ghost who taught it was determined to reach new lows in student attention. The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins in the room had made it five, maybe ten minutes before mass doodling and paper games ensued. Jake oddly enough was genuinely interested in this kind of history. Sure, the endless dates and names swam right through his ears, but the events themselves between wizards and magical creatures were rather intriguing. The bell was suddenly ringing, and Jake left the room with his master, actually disappointed that it had ended so soon.

The layout of the castle, though still daunting, was beginning to sink in as the two found their way back to the great hall for lunch. They passed Sun on the way in, who said she wanted to run and grab something from their cave during the break and informed them the others were already inside. Haley, once again, was sitting beside "Luna" at the Ravenclaw table, though they were joined by a couple first-years that Haley must have met in her classes. Nerk was sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Dominic, speaking quietly with a couple of the yellow and black sixth-years.

"Aw man," Jake mumbled. He wasn't used to being the least social person in a group, yet here he was without a place to sit. He was tired of being an outcast at Ravenclaw table, certainly wasn't impressed with what he'd seen of the Slytherins, and didn't know any of the Gryffindors (or at least none of them knew him). Nodding to Nerk as he walked by, he and Lao Shi found an empty table a bit away and grabbed some food. It didn't matter that he was on a different continent or in an ancient castle brimming with magic, Jake was feeling just like a normal transfer student; no friends and alone in a giant cafeteria.

"You seem troubled, Jake," Lao Shi commented after swallowing a bite of food.

"What, are you kidding Gramps? I've never been better," he answered with fake confidence. The raised eyebrow from Lao Shi told him he wasn't fooling anyone. "It's nothing! Really, G, I'm just getting used to the place, that's all. Listen, we've got a free period next and I know where the class after is, how about I meet you there?"

Lao Shi wasn't convinced, but nodded in agreement. Jake stood and briskly left the hall, unraveling his cloak and spreading his wings. He took to the air through the open doors to the grounds at a running start, nearly knocking a couple of Ravenclaw students to the floor by accident, and soared upwards into the sky. He wheeled under the stone bridges, circled the towers, and dove through the trenches around the school, reveling in the freedom of flight. When he got the feeling his time was up, he landed on a balcony in the corridor the next class was in, doubled his cloak, and found his master waiting by the door for him.

The two entered well before the hour was to begin and knocked on the door to the professor's office, assuming they would find her there. The stout little woman, once again adorned in copious amounts of pink, answered the door, a look of shock and barely concealed disgust quickly flashing across her face.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge…" Lao Shi began with their usual bows before Umbridge interrupted him.

"Yes, yes, it is a pleasure to meet you. You will find your seats against the back wall. Observe if you will, but I will _not_ tolerate any interruptions. Is that understood?" she briskly finished, the pasty little grin of hers returned and flashing wide.

To his credit, Lao Shi did not react to her rude behavior, simply nodding again with a monotone, "Very well." The two turned around, descending her office stairs and finding their seats.

"Well, looks like we found the Rotwood of Hogwarts," Jake remarked. "We walk through the door and she's already talking down to us."

"Fred and Dominic were the first to meet her this morning, I believe. It would appear they did not make a good impression." Lao Shi explained. Jake rolled his eyes as the door to the room opened and a girl with frizzy brown hair strode in.

"Well I don't blame them for whatever happened, that lady's got some serious issues." Jake retorted quietly.

"Who's got issues?" Jake and Lao Shi turned to see the girl looking intently at Jake, clearly thinking very hard about something. _Well, she's nosy_ , Jake thought, as the corner of her mouth perked up into a smirk. "If you're talking about Umbridge, don't mind her. She's just the Minister's little servant, I doubt she's ever been a professor a day in her life. Hogwarts has a reputation of having trouble finding good instructors for Defense Against the Dark Arts, it's a bit of a curse actually." She set her bag down in her chair and walked up to the two dragons. Jake stood as she neared, the look in her eye that of a child on Christmas morning.

"My name is Hermione Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said politely, her hand extended towards Jake. He looked at it and then her before his own hand slipped out from underneath the grey cloak to clasp hers. It felt absolutely tiny in comparison and he took extra care when cradling the dainty little thing as they shook.

"I'm Jake," he flashed back with a toothy smile. Her eyes narrowed, trying to decide if he was joking while Lao Shi stood to shake her hand as well.

"And I am Lao Shi," he said with tilt of his large head. She seemed much more satisfied with that name. "It is an honor."

Umbridge's office door creaked open, Hermione giving a small start at the sound. Her disapproving face was just visible through the gap, and Hermione quickly waved goodbye before returning to her things. Other students were entering now and finding their seats.

"It's so weird just having people walk up to you as a dragon," Jake whispered to his master as the room filled. "The Granger girl just came up and shook our hands like it was nothing. Can you imagine someone in New York doing that?"

"The Gryffindor students, I have heard, are sorted for their bravery and courage. They are admirable traits to possess, but also dangerous if not controlled," Lao Shi whispered in return, the knowing stare he was giving Jake implying the advice was not directed at the girl.

He turned back to see the Potter boy next to Granger, staring right at him. Jake could see his almost panicked look, his insecurity plain on his face. _Brave, huh?_ Jake thought as he held the stare. _Nope, not seeing it_. Umbridge's door opening distracted him, the sight of the pudgy woman bringing back his indignation from earlier.

The room called to order and her class goals etched onto the chalk board, Umbridge was leading the students like they were in preschool before assigning them a reading for the period. Jake soon realized the lack of anything to, well, _observe_ , and looked to his master for advice. Unfortunately, Lao Shi seemed equally perplexed.

The Granger girl, however, hadn't touched the textbook and sat with her hand raised. A solid five minutes passed before Umbridge, with half the class distracted by Hermione, begrudgingly approached her.

Umbridge asked her name, which she supplied before pointing out, "There's nothing in your course goals about using magic."

" _Using_ defensive spells?" she asked as though the idea were absurd. "Why, I can't imagine any situation requiring you to use any defensive spells in my classroom." Jake was somewhat taken aback by that. Why have a class about spells if you weren't going to use them? He obviously wasn't alone as the class quickly fell into a heated interrogation of Umbridge. After the first few students, she wore her most insincere smile and stood her ground, wand gripped tightly between her tiny clenched hands.

"In the past, your instruction in this course has been distracted and uneven. You have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, not to mention extremely dangerous _half-breeds_ ," she trilled with a cruel laugh.

He wasn't aware of standing, or really the whole truth behind what Umbridge had said, but Jake was on his feet, his chair on its side and his maw contorted into a furious growl. He could see the sudden terror in the eyes of the students (one girl had let out a squeak of fear), even Umbridge looking startled with her wand gripped tightly. Lao Shi put his hand on Jake's shoulder, urging him to sit. The heat of the moment gone, Jake felt a little embarrassed and righted his chair, retaking his seat. The students began turning back to Umbridge, just as Jake threw a quick wink at Hermione, a small grin appearing on her face.

Unfortunately, Umbridge picked up right where she left off (leaving out the _half-breed_ comments this time), sparking another round of questioning for the woman. Before long, Potter was having a one-on-one with her; he asking about defending against dangers in the real world, her in turn asking what there was to defend against.

"Oh, I don't know," he started sarcastically (which Jake appreciated), "how about…Lord Voldemort?"

Lao Shi stiffened at his words, the rest of the room adopting a much more serious atmosphere. The students were again looking terrified, and Umbridge seemed to be relishing the fight. She stoutly denied his accusations, egging Harry on to the point where he was shouting on his feet.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" the desperation leaking into Harry's voice. He was shaking visibly, looking like he was on the verge of attacking the short woman. "It was _murder_. Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

Jake wanted to intervene somehow, do something to stop this argument. They'd both gone too far, but Lao Shi saw the desire in his eyes and slowly shook his head. Thankfully, Umbridge had decided the same as she beckoned Potter up to her desk. After a brief moment, Jake watched Harry as, pink frilly note written by Umbridge clenched in his hand, he strode out of the room, locking eyes with Jake for a split second as he passed.

Order was regained and the students read until the hour finished, Potter not returning before then. Their observations finished for the day, the two returned to the lakeside cave to meet up with the others. Down the first rocky, torch lit hallway, they came to the domed central chamber, where a large wooden table sat with six chairs arranged around it, corridors dotting the edge of the room that branched off and lead to their private chambers, bathrooms, and the like. Haley and Sun were already seated when they arrived, appearing to be in the middle of their own discussion.

"I know, Sun, but I can't take it! All they talk about is how to move a wand, or what the fundamentals of spells are, things I either already know or can't even use!" Haley begged. Sun looked tired and let out a low sigh.

"I understand, Haley, and while I still believe the first-year courses are worth your time, I will ask the Headmaster his opinion at dinner if you feel this strongly."

Haley beamed, noticing Jake and Lao Shi had joined them and that Nerk and Dominic could be heard approaching from the entrance.

"So, what do you all think so far?" Lao Shi inquired while the last two found their seats. "It is only the first day, but much has happened already."

"I told you the Umbridge lady was a basket case," Dominic said. "But man, Professor McGonagall is quite the woman…" Nerk shivered in disgust, dropping his head in his hands.

"The school is wonderful and the students are very intriguing. I think this trip will prove to be even better than we had hoped," Sun chimed, her constant optimism as strong as ever.

"I've got a bad feeling, though," Jake confided. The others looked at him for clarification. "The Potter kid, he's just asking for trouble. He won't need to worry about Volde-whatever if he keeps trippin' like he did with Umbridge."

"I agree, Jake," Lao Shi added, a gentle smile spreading beneath his whiskers. "That is why you must get to know him and do what you can to help him through this. You share many of his classes, and you already know one of his closest friends. However, you must also control your temper. It does not matter what Umbridge or anyone else says, you cannot act out like you did today. Understood?"

Jake was about to argue before Lao Shi cut him off. "It is time for you to retrieve your schoolwork and finish your assignments before dinner. I will not let you fall behind in your education, even if we are halfway around the world."

The red dragon dropped his muzzle in defeat and slunk off down his hallway. Lao Shi had to admit, it was a bit satisfying to hear his grandson's usual _Aw man_ echo down the corridor.

* * *

Harry couldn't bring himself to lift his head from his dinner plate. Umbridge was still flying through his mind and the obscene amount of whispering about him from everyone in the hall was driving him mad. Hermione was next to him and Ron across the table, neither appearing to enjoy their meals either. He was picking apart his shepherd's pie when he vaguely noticed that it had become much quieter. _Finally_ , he thought.

"Yo, Hermione," said an unfamiliar voice. He looked up to once again see the red dragon, standing right next to them looking at Hermione with what he thought was a smile, though dragon facial expressions were a little hard to read.

"Oh! Hello Jake," she replied, quickly swallowing a bite of food. "Forget everything I said about Umbridge, she's nothing but an awful toad."

The dragon chuckled softly at that. Several of the other Gryffindors that were in Harry's year were nearby, staring at the red beast in latent horror and leaning away defensively. He seemed to notice and ran a clawed hand through the green tipped black hair that topped his head in a show of what Harry guessed was embarrassment.

"I just…uh…wanted to apologize. About freaking out with Umbridge, I mean. It was so whack, what she was sayin', but I shouldn't have…you know…" he laughed halfheartedly.

"Don't be ridiculous, she was completely out of line. Honestly, how a bigot like her is even allowed to teach here…" she trailed off, the rage obvious in her expression. Suddenly, she snapped up like she'd just remembered she'd left the oven on. "I'm such an idiot! Jake, these are my two friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter."

Ron currently had both hands busy with his food, but managed to stare at the dragon, unmoving, with enormous eyes. Jake pulled a large scaled hand out from under his massive cloak and offered it to Harry, who sat looking at Jake stunned, mouth hanging open, until the dragon thought that maybe shaking was out of the question. Harry shook his head and recovered, carefully clasping the vicious looking hand.

"P-Pleasure," he managed, wondering what a moron he must look like.

"That was pretty cool of you all to stand up to her like that," Jake complimented them, nudging Hermione in the shoulder and nodding to Harry and Ron. "Though, for your sake, you may want to make this a one-time-wonder, if you catch my drift," he added sincerely, looking at Harry.

"You sound just like McGonagall," Harry said with a sigh. The few people that supported him were trying to stop him from standing up to Umbridge. Why was it so hard for them to understand what it meant to have someone like her denouncing Dumbledore and ruining Cedric's memory?

"Listen, I've got to get back, but I'll catch y'all later," Jake waved, heading back to the table where the dragons were clustered together.

"He's not at all what I expected," Hermione said smiling, turning back to finish her meal.

"I know, since when do dragons have American accents?" Ron joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He just seems so… _normal_. I don't get it." She really was at a loss for words, which was rare for Hermione, the discomfort from it plain on her face.

"They're definitely not like the ones Charlie works with, or the ones we saw last year," Ron commented through a mouthful of food.

"He's alright for a dragon, I suppose…" Harry mumbled. "What kind of a name for a dragon is 'Jake', though?"

"The blue one said his name was Lao Shi," Hermione added, remembering how she had thought the same thing when she had met Jake. "Though if _Jake_ isn't good enough for you, we can always call him Norbert Jr."

The whispers were picking up again around them, however, except now they were about Harry lying about Voldemort and Cedric, yelling at Umbridge, _and_ talking to dragons, immediately throwing him back into his stupor. Hermione, finished with her food, threw her cutlery down and suggested they return to the common room. Harry gladly obliged, and the three left the hall, hoping to maybe get through at least part of their mountain of homework.


	8. Building Bridges

The next morning began the routine again, and Harry found himself dreading the day as he leaned over his sausage and eggs at breakfast. All three of them were exhausted, and Ron had already managed to insult Hermione into silence. Harry wasn't convinced that was the only reason she wasn't speaking, however, as he noticed her paying avid attention to the table where Jake sat with Lao Shi. Jake was trying to imitate him as he pointed a clawed finger at a goblet, causing it to float in the air and twirl, though Jake only managed to make his tip over and spill its contents.

They traipsed off to charms, where Professor Flitwick began by reiterating the importance of the O.W.L.'s, a message that Harry was growing very tired of hearing. The hour passed swiftly, and soon they were under Professor McGonagall's gaze in transfiguration, listening to the same speech once again. Jake and Lao Shi, it seemed, were also observing this class. He couldn't see his hands, but Harry got the feeling Jake was practicing whatever technique he had been using earlier, given how random objects around the room kept teetering or shaking. Neville was always clumsy, but he must have dropped his wand a dozen times while trying to make his snail vanish for the lesson, much to the amusement of the red dragon.

Hermione was still refusing to speak to Ron by the time lunch came around. Ron and Harry were beginning to panic under the load of homework they had to complete, and so decided to sacrifice their lunches for precious time in the library. They were beginning their walk when Harry turned to tell Hermione that they'd meet her at their next class, only to find she was already down the corridor and off to the Great Hall.

* * *

"Are you heading to the Great Hall for lunch, Jake?" Hermione's voice sounded from behind him. Jake turned and saw the brilliant girl with frizzy brown hair just catching up to him and Lao Shi. He had suspected it before, but after watching their transfiguration lesson he knew that Granger was a prodigy. She had successfully cast the vanishing spell on her _third_ attempt, while the rest of the class hadn't made so much as a hair disappear.

"Yah, I'm starved, you coming?" He noticed that she was alone, asking, "Where did Harry and Ron go?"

"Oh, well…" she paused, falling into step beside Jake as they made their way. "Ron upset me earlier, so we haven't really been talking this morning. They went to the library to work on homework, but I've already finished most of it." She said it so nonchalant, but Jake knew all about the full loads they had received so far.

"Is this a normal thing? You and Ron fighting, I mean," Jake asked. They had just entered the hall and were moving to find a seat at the Gryffindor table. Lao Shi briefly touched Jake's shoulder before heading towards the head table, probably to speak with Dumbledore or one of the professors.

Granger gave a knowing laugh. "More than I'd like to admit. We might as well be siblings, the way we bicker."

"Trust me, the real thing is a whole lot worse," Jake agreed smiling, filling his plate with nearby goodies on the table.

"You have brothers and sisters?" Hermione asked. She had wanted to ask Jake questions about the Dragons of Draco Isle, and this seemed like a good way to start the conversation. Her need to know about them was insatiable.

Jake shook his scaly head. "Just one sister, and she's _plenty_. You?"

Granger shook her head as well. "Only child, though I've always wondered what it would be like. If they're anything like Ron, though, I think I'm alright." She couldn't help but laugh at that. "If you don't mind me asking, are you from the USA? The only wild dragons I've heard being native to the Americas were in Chile and Peru…" she stuttered before looking at Jake alarmed. "Not that you're a wild dragon of course! Your lot aren't nearly as large or mindless as the typical variety." Jake cocked an eyebrow at that, Hermione thinking she'd offended him and continuing to ramble and hopefully alleviate the tension. "It's just strange that you all come from the Isle of Draco but have different...uhm, ethnicities?...Which isn't a bad thing!..."

The sudden flustered fit starkly contrasted against Hermione's usual superior maturity, and Jake couldn't help but laugh at it all. He was also reminded, however, of Lao Shi's warning of not giving anyone too much personal information. They were here to make friendships, but they also had the secrets of their people to maintain. Jake would have to be careful, especially around someone as sharp as Hermione.

"Accent gave me away, huh? Yah, I'm from the states." Hermione relaxed as soon as he started laughing, her previous awkwardness now replaced with rapt attention as Jake took his turn to speak. "The clothes aren't as fancy, and tea isn't that big, but otherwise it's pretty much the same." Humor was always a good fallback for avoiding certain topics, Jake thought.

They kept at it, Hermione talking about her muggle parents, learning about being a witch when she was eleven and coming to Hogwarts. Jake had to dodge some of her questions, but was thankfully saved before they became too specific by the end of lunch. Lao Shi rejoined them, and the trio walked down through the courtyard to the lawns beside the castle.

They were headed to the subject that Jake had been looking forward to the most since he'd first seen his schedule: Care of Magical Creatures.

* * *

"And just what are they doing?" Ron asked. Harry and he were walking to their Care of Magical Creatures class when they saw Hermione headed in the same direction, striding alongside Jake and Lao Shi.

"Probably going to the same place we are," Harry responded. He was kind of surprised to see it, but he was pretty sure Ron was getting jealous. They met with the group of Gryffindors and Slytherins standing just beyond Hagrid's Hut along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Everyone was looking at the table by Professor Grubbly-Plank, which looked like it was covered in sticks.

"Neat, Bowtruckles," the red dragon mumbled next to the blue one, who was trying to introduce them to the professor. She shot a look at him, scolding, "Yes they are, but don't go giving away the answers!"

"My bad," he apologized, running his claws through his hair. The two stood off to the side, away from the group but still within earshot. Professor Grubbly-Plank gathered everyone up and began her lecture, introducing them all to the Bowtruckles, describing their behaviors and habitats (after Hermione of course recited them perfectly). Malfoy and his cronies made the usual show of mocking Hermione as she answered the Professor, though Harry was pleased to see them immediately shrink away as the red dragon gave them a now familiar stare of impending doom.

Throughout the lesson, the dragons simply watched and observed, whispering to one another as the students collected the sketches that Professor Grubbly-Plank had demanded of them. Malfoy had regained some of his courage and didn't spare the opportunity to covertly antagonize Harry about Hagrid's mysterious absence, hinting that he knew where he was. Harry's emotions surged, and he earned a few choice cuts from the Bowtruckle he'd managed to crush in his hand. Hermione gave him some pieces of cloth to stem the bleeding as they walked off to the greenhouses for Herbology, all the while Harry being unable to shake the constant feeling that he was being watched far more closely than the others by their new reptilian guests.

* * *

While they walked, Jake eavesdropped on their conversation. Apparently, Harry was concerned about someone named Hagrid being missing and the blonde boy (Malfoy they called him) had insulted him. He was also very over protective of Hagrid, Jake decided, after watching him snap at Hermione about his teaching or something, which she had made no mention of in the first place. Jake was getting more and more reason to believe the boy was more paranoid than brave, which only served to worry him further.

A group of Ravenclaws were leaving the greenhouses as they arrived, one of them being Luna, the girl Haley had befriended. She saw Harry and immediately ran to tell him something, but Jake was distracted by his own sister.

"Hales? What are you doing here? I thought you were with the first-years," Jake asked. These students were far older than the ones he was used to seeing her with.

"Sun and I spoke with Dumbledore, and he agreed to let me observe the fourth-years instead. I've got to say, it's been a _lot_ more interesting than yesterday!" She was absolutely giddy as Sun caught up with her. "We're headed to Charms, see you guys later!" Haley shouted as they flew up towards the castle.

The two dragons headed to the greenhouses while the rest of the students were chatting and introduced themselves to the pleasant woman known as Professor Sprout. They were exchanging the usual pleasantries when Jake caught a scent that made him stiffen immediately.

"Is…is that…" He _knew_ what it was, but here? Why would…

"Is that what, dear?" Professor Sprout asked, slightly confused. Jake was craning his neck around, looking at the pots and bags scattered amongst the shelves, until his nose led him to a crate filled with heavy woolen sacks.

"Oh, you mean the fertilizer! Yes, we only use the finest dragon dung for our budding beauties here at Hogwarts," Professor Sprout trilled, clearly proud of her plants. Jake was gasping in disgust, despite the disapproving glare from his grandfather. Why were they not bothered by this?

"Jake, _control yourself_ , your behavior is very disrespectful of their culture," Lao Shi scolded him as they found their seats in the corner of the greenhouse, the students starting to pour into the humid room.

"Yo, G, they're using _dragon sewage_ to grow their plants! That's just…so… _gross_ ," he gagged.

His Dragon Master answered with exasperation, "Dung from _feral_ dragons, Jake, you know that. It is no different than any normal farmer using cow manure, or…"

"Please, gramps, no more…" Jake coughed, his eyes shut tight. Lao Shi sighed in defeat before turning to listen as Professor Sprout began delivering another speech on exams, and Jake could only watch in nauseating horror as the students repotted various plants, all the while handling the fresh, top quality _fertilizer_.

As soon as the bell tolled, Jake waited for no one. He was gone and flying out of the door, putting as much distance between him and the greenhouses as possible.

* * *

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Ron assured Hermione.

"I just don't trust Umbridge one bit." Hermione hissed. Just the thought of that pink little toad of a woman made her furious. "Especially after yesterday, she's got it out for Harry."

"Well there's nothing we can…" Ron paused looking over Hermione's shoulder before continuing. " _Bloody Hell_ , you look awful."

Jake's weary body plopped down on the bench beside Hermione. She couldn't help but agree with Ron, seeing his drooping ears and exhausted slouch. His scales even looked a shade of red paler than normal, if that were even possible. "Jake, are you alright?" she asked tentatively.

"Never better…" he grumbled. "Herbology just grossed me out a little. Or a lot." The thought of the class made him cringe again, and he reached for the nearest goblet, gulping down the drink inside. He took a soothing breathe before asking, "Where'd Harry go?"

"Umbridge sacked him with detention through Friday," Ron answered.

"Ouch, that's rough. Especially if it's with _her_." Jake said. The parallels between Umbridge and Rotwood continued to grow as Jake considered the many afternoons he'd had to spend cleaning whiteboards or scraping gum for his own lunatic professor. The other two agreed with their downcast glances.

"Jakeroo, you done yet?" Nerk was calling from a table away. Jake nodded and stood to leave. "We'll catch up later," he waved before following Nerk out of the Great Hall.

"We should be heading back, too," Hermione prodded. "We've got plenty of homework to catch up on, and if we finish early you can help me knit more hats for the elves," she added, a tone of hopeful excitement filling her voice.

Ron mumbled and nodded in agreement, though he seemed distracted, his eyes focused on the landscape outside the windows of the Great Hall.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set, orange tinting filling the sky. Once again, Ron's enchanted Quaffle had flown in the completely wrong direction, forcing him to groan with frustration and fly over to retrieve it. _This is hopeless, I'm making a fool of myself_ , he thought in disappointment. _I would have been better off just doing my homework with Hermione_.

He had made it halfway down the field toward the maroon ball when a red dragon came flying in from the side and picked it up, turning to meet Ron mid-flight.

"Yo, Ron! What's crackalackin'?" he shouted up to him, tossing the ball towards him. Ron barely managed to catch it, and it took him a great deal of effort to stay balanced on his broomstick doing so. He was clutching the handle for dear life, desperately trying to correct himself, and quickly headed for the ground before he truly did fall. Jake followed and fluttered a foot in the air. "I was watching you for a bit, but I didn't really get what you were...well...trying to do..."

"Shouldn't you be with the other dragons doing…whatever you all do?" Ron dismissed Jake, his face and ears growing a bright red. The thought of the dragon watching him flounder on his broom and failing miserably to practice being a Keeper made him deeply embarrassed. Jake landed on the ground, the dejection plain on his face. _Good_ , thought Ron, _we don't even know him, why does he care what I'm doing?_

Jake perked back up and smiled widely. "Well, I was, but it was crazy boring so I came out for a quick break." He pointed a claw at the ball still in Ron's hands. "What's that thing? It looked like you were trying to make it attack you."

"You're joking, right? It's a Quaffle," Ron answered, confused by the dragon's lack of response. "You know, for Quidditch," he continued. Jake just tilted his head, completely lost by what he was saying.

"You don't know about _Quidditch_?" Ron asked incredulously. Jake shook his head, and Ron was almost beside himself. How could someone _not_ know about Quidditch? "It's only the most popular sport in the world."

"Oh, so it's like the Ogre Bowl!" Jake chipped in, hoping to find some kind of similarity. It was Ron's turn to look confused now, before Jake shook his head again. "Never mind, forget it. What's Quidditch? Are you supposed to fly through those hoops?" Jake said pointing the three golden goal posts at the closest end of the pitch, his mind drifting to the races on the Isle of Draco.

Ron shook his head laughing, deciding he couldn't just let someone, dragon or otherwise, go on living without knowing about his favorite pastime. He did his best to summarize the general idea of the game, the different positions the players filled, how points were scored, and how the game was ended with catching the Golden Snitch. It took about five minutes of explanation and Jake wasn't sure he really understood much by the end of it, but he'd gotten the gist of it.

There was one thing, however, that still had him confused. "But if you wanted to play Quidditch, why are you by yourself? Even if we were just using the Quaffle, we'd still need at least four people to a team, right?" Ron's ears were reddening again, his eyes looking down to stare at his shoes.

"Well, I, uh…" Ron was having great difficulty explaining himself. Jake having no knowledge of the sport eased his tensions slightly as he continued, "I'm practicing being a Keeper. The Gryffindor Quidditch team is having tryouts this Friday for a new Keeper, and I…er…"

"Ron, that's awesome!" Jake said in support. Ron lifted his head, relieved by the dragon's response. Jake looked up at the goal posts, then back at the Quaffle before asking Ron, "Do you want help? G's got me doing enough work to bore a rock to death, I'm _begging_ for something else to do." Ron wasn't sold on the idea, but considering his pathetic progress thus far he was willing to try anything and nodded his approval.

"Thanks. Jake, right?" he asked uncertainly, climbing back on his broom and tossing the Quaffle to the dragon. The two spent the rest of the daylight working on Ron's Keeping skills, Jake going a bit easy on his throws to give him a chance. He was very shaky, and nearly fell on multiple occasions, but by the time they were packing up for the night Jake really thought he'd made huge improvements.

"Hey, Ron," Jake said, handing him the Quaffle to put in his bag. The red headed boy looked up in answer. "Thanks for letting me hang out with you. It's been…hard, getting used to this place, not knowing where you are or…anyone around you." He suddenly ducked his head as though ashamed of what he'd said. Ron kicked himself for how he had acted earlier, no doubt making things worse for the red dragon that had been kind enough to help him.

"You kidding? I should be thanking you, having help practicing Keeping's the most fun I've had in a long time. And I'm sorry for being a git with you before." He smiled sheepishly before quickly mentioning, "I'll probably be out here again tomorrow, you know, if you want to…stop by or, er, something…" Jake's terrifying toothy smile was back again, though Ron was growing accustomed to it.

"Definitely."


	9. Party Invitations

Harry's hand had continued to sting after leaving Umbridge's office Thursday night. The blood quill she had him doing "lines" with was a temporary pain at first, but three nights in a row of carving the words into his own skin had now left the etchings of _I must not tell lies_ scratched into his right hand, the cuts freshly formed. He refused to tell anyone about it, he wouldn't complain to his friends or professors and have Umbridge gain the satisfaction of breaking him. This was his burden, and he would carry it alone.

He was so focused on getting back to the common room that he nearly ran into Ron as he turned the corner toward the staircases. He was carrying his broomstick and the dragon Hermione had introduced him to was standing next to him tossing a Quaffle in the air.

"Oh, Harry! Finished with Umbridge for the night?" Ron seemed far too happy about something, and Harry was starting to wonder what he'd been doing out so late the past few nights.

"Yah, I just got out. What were you up to?" Harry asked curiously, though their Quidditch gear made the answer obvious. Ron hesitated and seemed unwilling to answer. Jake rolled his eyes and shoved him in the back. "Ron, dog, just tell him. There's nothing to be shy about," the dragon encouraged.

Harry was now almost worried when Ron let out a small breathe and stared at the floor answering, "Jake was helping me practice being a Keeper down at the pitch. I'm going to try out for the team tomorrow. Go on, laugh, it's alright."

"Ron, that's brilliant! Why would I laugh?" Harry asked, bewildered by his friend's reluctant behavior. A wave of relief broke over Ron, his face completely lit with a brimming grin. "How've you been doing?"

"Oh, he was _terrible_ at first, but homeboy's got some mad skills now," Jake answered. Ron looked like he was torn between being offended and appreciative, when Jake's eyes widened slowly and he began moving his muzzle through the hair, inhaling at rapid intervals. He ended facing Harry, zoning in on the hand he had clapped against his side. "Harry, you're bleeding, a _lot_ ," he commented. He was right beside him before Harry had a chance to register his movement, examining the injury. Harry pulled his hand out of the dragon's grasp, but it was too late. "Umbridge?" was all Jake said.

He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't lie to the dragon. "It's nothing, really," he said, but Ron was now also examining the wound, his face contorting with revulsion and hatred.

"That filthy hag!" Ron burst, "She can't do this, Harry, it's _torture_!"

"Bro, you should have told someone," Jake said, "or at least McGonagall, or the headmaster."

" _No_ ," Harry refused with determination. "I've only got one detention left, I'm not going to let her win by whining to McGonagall or Dumbledore."

Ron was still furious, Jake looking unconvinced but replying, "Fine, but we're way past 'winning' with this, Harry." The dragon turned, undid his cloak, and flew down a flight of stairs to the nearest balcony, returning to his lair by the lake.

"You know Hermione's going to say the same thing, right?" Ron said as they entered the common room, fireplace still blazing as always. Harry was sure she would as they sat beside her and he dug out his materials, trying to do what homework he could. The fury and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, and the only thing keeping him focused on his work was a single hopeful thought.

_Only one more day_ , he chanted internally, _and I'll be free from her. Just one more day._

* * *

"Yo, gramps!" Jake called as he entered the central room of their cave. Lao Shi was waiting patiently at the table, a look blazoned in his eyes warning Jake of the oncoming reprimanding that he knew was long overdue.

"Jake, you have been shirking your responsibilities!" Lao Shi scolded, gesturing to the pile of books beside him. "I understand that you are working on your relationships with the students, but that does _not_ excuse you from your studies." Jake was now beside him, under the light of the candle lit brass chandelier dangling above, and Lao Shi could see his stern expression. "What is it young one?" Lao Shi asked, his tone now one of concern.

The image of Harry's hand, bleeding and cut with the words _I must not tell lies_ came back to his mind, sending a shiver through his spine. He understood Harry's need to keep this from the professors, but Jake couldn't keep his Dragon Master out of it.

"We've got a problem, G."

* * *

"Jake!" Hermione called to the red dragon as he glided over to the observation platform she was seated at. The sky was overcast again, dim light falling across the carefully trimmed field of the Quidditch pitch. "What on Earth are you doing here?"

Jake sat next to her, tying up his cloak as he went. "You didn't think I'd leave Ron hanging, did you? Have the tryouts started yet?" he asked, seeing a line of wizards floating in place by the three goalposts on the end of the pitch closest to them. The Gryffindor team was present in its entirety (except for Harry of course) and dressed in their red Quidditch robes, watching as two of their female teammates took turns hurling Quaffles at a smaller girl zipping around in front of the golden hoops. She wasn't even making contact with most of them as they flew by, and the ones she did manage to grasp quickly fell out of her hands.

"Yes, though they've only just started. _Ooh_ , that looked like it hurt," Hermione squeaked. The girl had finally caught a Quaffle, only to have the momentum make her somersault and smack her head on the metal hoop behind her with a loud _thwack_. She floated off to the benches, letting the next contestant, a smirking older boy, take his turn. Ron was one of the last in the line, and he was fidgeting visibly as he waited. He watched wide eyed with fear as his competition went before him.

"He doesn't look very excited," Harry joked, though Hermione still looked worried. "Hermione, it'll be fine. Ron's gotten pretty good over the past few days, he'll blow them away."

"I know that he can," she sighed, "I just don't know that _he_ knows that he _c_ an."

Jake couldn't argue that. The others before him went and finished their rounds, a couple of them performing very well from what Jake could see. Ron's turn came and it took him a good while to shake himself awake after his name was called. He daintily floated over to take his place between the hoops, his face as pale as though he was staring at death itself.

" _Show'em what you're made of Ron!_ " Jake shouted, now standing on the bleachers.

" _You can do this Ronald!_ " Hermione joined, clapping and whooping loud enough that several of the Gryffindor team members cast them sideways glances (particularly at the dragon now watching them). Ron nodded, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corner of his mouth, and turned back to the two Chasers, showing that he was ready.

The two girls whirled around and went halfway down the pitch before turning back. The first one came, Quaffle tucked under her arm, barreling straight for Ron as fast as she could. Her arm was a flash and the Quaffle was zipping through the air. Just before it could reach the leftmost hoop, Ron was there, his arm snatching out and grabbing it, gloved hand slamming against the Quaffle with a resounding _smack_. The next girl came with no pause, faking towards the right ring before chucking her ball at the tall center goal instead. Ron had hesitated and wasn't close enough to catch it, but still managed to smack it off course with the bristles of his broom.

"That's what I'm _talkin'_ about!" Jake roared, spouting a plume of blazing fire straight into the air, startling Hermione out of her cheering.

"You can breathe _fire_?" Ron shouted as a Quaffle quickly soared straight into his chest and knocked the wind out of him. "Focus Weasley!" one of the girls called.

Hermione had cringed at the impact. "That probably hurt, too," she whimpered.

The rest of the tryouts went well. Overall, Ron had done at least as well as the other contestants and the team had conducted interviews with them all after seeing their flying abilities. Ron found Hermione and Jake waiting outside the pitch, and they were pleased to see that he was quite happy.

"Did you get it?" Hermione asked, full of anticipation and excitement.

"Dunno yet," Ron confided, clearly tired of waiting for the news as well. "They're still talking about it in the pitch, but I think they're almost finished."

"No sweat, you've got this dude," Jake said, offering his clenched hand to him. Ron thought he was giving him something and reached out to accept it, asking in confusion, "What is it?"

"No, no, it's a fist bump, bro. Like a hand shake," Jake clarified laughing. Ron suddenly understood and smacked his fist against the much larger, scalier one of the dragon. Jake looked to see the Sun was nearly set and realized that Lao Shi was probably getting impatient with him again when the Quidditch team walked through the burlap curtains of the pitch entrance. They trooped up to where they were standing and walked right on up to the castle, only Angelina, their captain, staying to deliver the news to them and the others, who were waiting patiently.

"We've decided, and thank you everyone for coming out today," she said with finality before turning to Ron. "Congratulations Weasley, you're the new Gryffindor Keeper."

Everyone else let out a collective groan or sigh of disappointment, while Jake and Hermione were cheering for Ron. To his credit, he didn't gloat or boast. In fact, he stood there, more pale than when he'd been performing, utterly speechless. Everyone was soon heading up to the castle, and Hermione was growing irritated at Ron's continued petrification.

"Ron, why aren't you happy? You got onto the team!" she cheered again.

"I…did? But…why?" he choked out.

"Because you _rock_ , Ron! See, Hermione, I told you he'd do it." Jake joked.

She turned to him offended. "I never doubted him for a second! Honestly, Ron, you're starting to worry me."

The realization must have finally caught up with him as a smile exploded across his face, his body giving way to a strange jumping routine that vaguely resembled some sort of victory dance. "Gryffindor common room, butterbeers on me!" he shouted. Jake had never seen Ron so happy, and knowing that he'd helped him get to this point made it all the better. Jake was laughing, truly full of joy for the first time in what felt like a long while, but the thought of his grandfather waiting sobered him and he prepared to take his cue and leave.

"Don't party too hard. I'll see y'all later," Jake bid farewell.

"You won't be joining us?" Hermione said, clearly disappointed. "This is as much your accomplishment as it is Ron's, Jake."

"That's right!" Ron joined, saddened that Jake didn't want to stay. "I never would have pulled that off without you, you're a life saver!"

Jake was touched, sincerely. "I thought only Gryffindors were allowed to know where the common room was or actually go inside?" he asked, wary of their offer.

Ron waved off his objection. "We're prefects, Jake, no one's going to question it. Besides, _the Dragons of Draco Isle are our honored and esteemed guests_ ," Ron said in a very convincing impression of Stout's flamboyant voice. "What better way to treat our guests than invite them to our common room?"

Jake hadn't wanted to subvert Lao Shi's instructions so badly in a long time, but their invitation really was tempting. "Tell you what," Jake answered with a smirk, "I'll go clear it with the old man and meet you guys on the fifth floor landing, deal?" The two beamed at him, and so he unbound his cloak and took to the air, streaking towards the hole in the wall they called home.

He found his Dragon Master in his private room, meditating on the padded mat they each had in their rooms for a bed. "You are late again, young dragon," he said calmly as Jake entered the room and sat opposite him, opening his eyes slowly to take in the form of his rash grandson.

"I know, and I'm sorry gramps, honest," Jake said apologetically. "I promise, I'm not forgetting about my schoolwork. I've just finally got a couple of the students to treat me like a friend and…I need to ask a favor."

Lao Shi raised an eyebrow, indicating for Jake to continue. "I've been helping Ron Weasley with Quidditch practice and they just had tryouts for the Gryffindor team. He got the Keeper spot and they're celebrating and invited me to join them in their common room and I wanted to know if it was okay with you," he said in a rushed jumble, hoping that maybe if he said it all quickly it'd somehow appear more acceptable to his grandfather.

His eyes seemed to shine in understanding. "So they've invited you to their common room, hm?" he mused, twirling a few of his whiskers between two pinched claws. His eyes were closed in what looked like irritation and he was muttering something in Mandarin before he spat, "Bah, _fine_. But your assignments for this week _will_ be finished by Sunday evening," he finished, one eye open and trained on his student. Jake was ecstatic and gave swift thanks before soaring back out of the cave once more.

The flight was short and he was soon ducking below an archway as he landed on the fifth floor balcony. Just as he was walking onto the staircase platform and tying his cloak closed, Hermione and Ron approached from the staircase below.

"Wow, that was fast," Hermione complimented, earning a coy wink from the dragon waiting politely in front of them.

"So where are we headed, oh great _Keeper_ ," Jake teased as they continued to ascend the steps. Ron shoved him (to little effect) and motioned for him to follow. From what he had heard, the common rooms were a secret to students of other houses and he wondered how this secrecy was accomplished. Soon they were on the seventh floor landing, standing in front of a large painting of an even larger woman who was eyeing the dragon before her with mixed interest and fear.

" _Mimbulus mimbletonia,_ " Hermione said to the living portrait.

"Yes, yes, go on then," the woman replied, waving them on as her frame creaked forward. Even after they passed the threshold, Jake had the distinct impression that she was somehow still watching him. They climbed through a round hole, which Jake was rather uncomfortable trying to fit through, until they reached the opening to a large, circular room filled with red and gold furniture and decorations, as well as a fireplace roaring in the corner nook. The room held a decent amount of students, though not nearly enough to fill it. Most of those present were warmly greeting Hermione and congratulating Ron on making the team as Keeper when Jake climbed down from the entrance.

Two tall read headed boys that had been passing around bottles filled with foaming amber fluid stopped dead when they saw him. "Okay, who let the dragon in?" one of them called over to where Ron and Hermione were. "Of course it was you Ron," the other commented before Ron even opened his mouth. He turned to his twin, adding, "They haven't even been here a week and the twit's gone and shown them our secret base."

"Oh shove off you two," Ron shot back.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to your brothers?" the first asked sarcastically, the second continuing, "His _teammates_ , no less."

"For heaven's sake," Hermione interrupted, stepping over to Jake's side. "Jake, these two are Ron's older brothers, Fred and George Weasley. Fred, George, this is Jake."

The two boys eagerly stepped forward, each shaking one of Jake's clawed hands, who looked startled and confused by their creepy twin-speak.

"Truly a pleasure." Fred praised.

"An honor even," George added.

"You know, you could be the new Gryffindor mascot, you've already got the color scheme and everything," Fred said pointing to the red and yellow pattern of Jake's hide.

"And we heard about what you did during your first class with Umbridge, good show that," George applauded.

Despite Fred and George clearly trying, perhaps much too hard, to lighten up the atmosphere, nearly every other Gryffindor in the room still had Jake fixed with fearful stares. Whispers were flying throughout the room, and Jake could hear them all with perfect clarity, whether the students were trying to hide them or not.

_I heard it threw a desk and had to be held down…_

_Did you see it shooting fire at the players during the tryouts?…_

_It could eat you in a single bite…_

_No wonder Potter and Luna are all chummy with it; they're all dangerous loonies…_

"Listen, Hermione, thanks for inviting me but this was a mistake," Jake turned back to the round portal entrance behind him.

"Nonsense!" the twins bellowed in unison, George continuing, "You've only just arrived, our scaly friend."

"You haven't even had any refreshments yet!" Fred reminded him, shoving a bottle into his claws. "Bottoms up!" they chanted, arms locked and guzzling their own drinks.

The foam at the top smelled delightful. Jake took a careful sip, the fizz and flavor dancing across this tongue. He could see what Stout's interest had been in getting a cup when they had first arrived, this stuff was _fantastic_. Before he knew it, he had chugged the entire bottle, now an empty glass clutched in his hand.

His thin, wispy tongue licking his lips, Jake shook his head in pleasure. "Oh, _dang_ , this stuff is off the _hook!_ "

"Atta' boy!" the twins cheered, now singing some tune about Hogwarts, much to the amusement of the onlookers. Hermione looked exhausted but was laughing at the show, and Ron was being assaulted with questions from Angelina about their Quidditch practice the following day.

Jake looked around at the cozy room, brimming with comfort and memories, and almost felt at home. His hand rested on the top of a couch that looked just like the one in his grandpa's shop, and he could see himself collapsing into it after a long day of training, Fu Dog walking out from the back room with a bowl of cheesy nachos, even Trixie laying on the floor trying to do her homework while Spud toyed with whatever artifacts he could find sitting around. Jake turned his head and caught his reflection in a hanging mirror, an enormous red dragon stuffed into a room filled with normal teenagers, snapping him back to reality. He was just fooling himself; this… _place_ …would never be his home. Joyful laughter filled the air as he decided to make his escape before the eyes and whispers returned to him.

"Thanks again, Hermione," he said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder. She looked on the verge of falling asleep in her armchair, but perked up when Jake had said his goodbyes.

"You're leaving already?" she asked with a poorly stifled yawn.

"You need sleep," Jake laughed. She waved off the comment as Jake turned and gave Ron, who was now in a headlock from his brothers, a wave of his hand. Ron tried to return it, restricted in movement as he was. Jake slipped through the tunnel and beyond the portrait, standing once again on the seventh floor landing.

"I trust you managed not to break anything," the woman in the painting asked in a snooty tone. Jake thought it very high brow of a woman dressed only in a toga.

"Who, me? Pft, please. Give the Am-Drag a _little_ credit," he whined sarcastically, undoing his second knot and making his usual show of leaping off of the platform. He was soaring back to the fifth floor balcony when he thought he heard a shout of pain that sounded just like Harry. He landed and poured all of his focus into his ears, trying to locate the sound. All he heard, though, was the creak of a distant door and the maniacal laughter of a wandering ghost.

The silence was absolute as Jake gave up and continued to the balcony. He had a suspicious feeling that, even after his promise to finish before Sunday, Lao Shi would not allow him any resemblance of decent sleep tonight.


	10. Understanding Repercussions

"I heard you went to a _party_ , Jake," Haley piped. She had taken the seat next to him at their meeting table after seeing him alone in the central room. Books were strewn around him, Jake centered in the hurricane of paper. His intuition had unfortunately again been correct, Lao Shi instructing him to work late into the night until he couldn't move from fatigue, and then keep working. The cave distorted his sense of time, and Jake wasn't sure when exactly he'd gone to bed, only that by the time he'd awakened breakfast had come and gone. His stomach ached in hunger, his eyes burned from endless reading, yet here he was desperately trying to finish the last of this nuisance around him.

"What I don't get," he said, ignoring Haley's directed comment, "is why the classes they're all taking seem so easy, but I can barely do this stupid muggle school work."

"You're starting to talk like them, kid," Dominic chuckled as he joined them at the table. "And it's because _their_ classes interest you. This," he waved his hand at the mess of papers, "clearly doesn't."

Jake already knew that. He could care less about math and chemistry, but Transfiguration? Charms? How so many of the students could complain about their classes when they were learning such amazing things was beyond him.

"Give them a class filled with this boring stuff and they'll be _begging_ to go back to Potions," Jake suggested.

"They already have one, it's called Muggle Studies," Haley corrected. "It's only an elective, though, so no one takes it."

Nerk now joined them, tilting back in his own chair. "Can't say I blame them. Was the party a ripper?"

"It wasn't even a party," Jake dismissed, tired of them constantly bringing last night up. "A little drinking, a little singing, that's all."

" _Drinking?_ " Dominic questioned. Despite Jake's expectations, he actually seemed intrigued, not upset.

"Jake, how could you!" Haley accused as though he had betrayed them.

"No no no! Not _drinking_ drinking, just butterbeers! Sheesh, y'all need to chill," Jake finished with a mumble. _So much for trusting me_ , he thought. "I didn't hang out for long; I probably shouldn't have gone at all."

"But you got to see their common room!" Jake just shrugged in response. "That's a huge deal! Luna wouldn't even show me hers," Haley said longingly.

"The Hufflepuffs probably wouldn't show me, even if I asked," Nerk added, though he seemed indifferent to the fact.

"You're so lucky, Jake, the way the Gryffindors all love you. It's not _fair_ ," she pouted, dark pink dragon arms crossed in displeasure.

Jake stood abruptly, stirring up another storm of papers. He wanted to shout at her, tell her about how they all thought he was a freak, that they were terrified just to be in the same room as him, but his jaws remained clenched shut. Haley knew when she managed to truly upset her brother and shame was welling up inside of her. "What did I say?"

Her brother had most of the papers thrown together into a rough pile and cradled them with the books in his arms. "Just drop it," he said flatly. "When's lunch?"

"Soon," his grandfather's voice answered, the blue dragon arriving from his own room. "And how have your studies been going?"

Jake had disappeared behind a door down his tunnel, a loud _thud_ echoing through the hallway as he dropped the load of papers. "If I hear the words _studies, assignments,_ or _schoolwork_ one more time, I'm gonna hurl." Coming back into view, he saw his dragon master's expectant stare and answered with a sigh, "I'm caught up, G."

"Very good. Now we'll have plenty of time for your dragon training after lunch."

Jake knew he wouldn't be off the hook, but at least they'd be doing something other than trigonometry for the rest of the weekend. He gratefully left the cave with the others and flew off to the castle courtyard, the sight of students leaving a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

"Hermione, you should have _seen_ him," Harry boasted while tearing into his meal. "Ron caught nearly every Quaffle I threw at him, and he never let a single one through. It was like Wood had never left." Ron didn't say anything to Harry's praise, though the tips of his ears were turning a deep red at the attention.

"That's all well and good, but neither of you have made any progress on your homework. Honestly, you're going to be drowning in it soon," Hermione reminded them. She had thought their morning was a splendid time to catch up on their piling assignments. They, however, had kindly disagreed and instead warmed up for their Quidditch practice that afternoon, much to her chagrin.

"We were already drowning, Hermione, except now Ron's practically ready to join the Hollyhead Harpies at their next tryouts."

"Oh shut it, Harry, I'm not that good. If it weren't for all the help I'd gotten…"

"You mean from the dragon?" Harry clarified.

" _The dragon_ has a name you know," Hermione said, disappointed at Harry's rudeness. She drifted off in thought at the mention of their new friend. "I hope Jake's alright. He wasn't here with the others for breakfast this morning…"

"Maybe Lao wasn't happy about him coming to the dorm last night," Ron considered. "He really didn't stay that late, though."

"I still don't get why you brought the dragon ( _Jake_ , Hermione shot) to the common room to begin with," Harry questioned. Hermione and Ron both looked offended, but neither spoke right away.

"Why wouldn't we? He's our friend, Harry!" Hermione said defensively.

"Yah, and we've known loads of students in the other houses for years, you don't see them in our common room, do you?" Harry retorted. "The dragons have been here for a _week_ , Hermione. What makes them any different?"

Again, the two found difficulty forming arguments to Harry's questions. The loss of words had Hermione flustered, but Ron was the first to speak this time.

"At least other students have their own houses. The dragons only have themselves and a cave. It's probably driving them mental!" he explained, thinking of the end of their first night of practice and what Jake had confided in him. "And you don't know him, Harry, he's just like us. What if you were shipped off to Durmstrang and had to live with complete strangers?"

Between the scar-induced headache and recently carved hand, Harry didn't have much attention to spare for the Dragons of Draco Isle, who were now entering the Great Hall to join the meal. Most of the students had stopped jumping when they walked into the room, but the usual round of whispers flew around when they came into view.

"You don't think it'll come back again tonight, do you?" a third-year Gryffindor not far from them whispered to her neighbors.

"I heard it tried to strangle one of the Weasleys when they gave it a drink."

"What if it tells the _other_ dragons where the common room is, too?"

The commentary around the table was getting to Hermione. She kept looking at Jake, who entered the hall last in the line of dragons, hoping that he'd see and join them. He stood for a moment at the doorway, noticing her watching him and turning slightly in their direction before he suddenly stopped. His ears twitched and he swept his eyes along the length of the table.

"Oh dear…" Hermione whispered as he swiftly turned away toward the Hufflepuff table, sitting at the empty bench on the far end claimed by the rest of the dragons. She huffed in rage and turned to Harry, saying, "I'm sure you know what _that_ feels like."

Harry didn't answer but stood up hurriedly, grabbing up his broom as he went. "C'mon, let's get down to the pitch and meet up with the others." Ron nodded, distracted as Hermione was, and followed his friend out of the hall. Hermione gave the third-years a long, cold glare before getting up from her own place.

She knew that the other dragons had seen her coming, and the shifting in his posture told Hermione that Jake was listening to her approach as well. The fact that he was acting oblivious anyway made her hesitate as she neared the Hufflepuff table, but her determination got the better of her and she pressed forward.

"Hello, Jake." The red dragon had been leaning over a bowl of minced meat soup, his silverware untouched. Hermione's greeting made him tense, slowly turning his large head toward her, his nearest eye watching her warily.

"Oh…hey Hermione," he said, the deadpan tone very unlike him. The other dragons were making efforts to look away and act disinterested, though the pink one couldn't take her eyes off of Hermione.

"We were worried when we didn't see you this morning at breakfast. Are you alright?" she asked, hoping maybe she was misunderstanding the situation, though she was fairly certain that wasn't the case.

"Yah, I'm good, I was just…busy…with, uh, dragon stuff…" Jake said, reverting to his time tested excuse for his parents, rolling his eyes and putting a hand against his head in embarrassment after realizing how stupid he must sound. Hermione fought hard against the laugh bubbling out of her, but couldn't conceal her smile.

She sobered when Jake didn't share in the humor. "Jake, I," she paused, not entirely sure what was right to say. "I'm sorry if last night was…hard for you. We only wanted…" she stumbled, and then shook her head, deciding apologies wouldn't do much here. She had originally planned to spend the afternoon going through her homework, but inspiration had struck and she was quickly thinking of new plans. "I'm off to watch the Gryffindor team practice, it's a beautiful day out for Quidditch. See you around?"

The red dragon looked at her briefly and nodded. Hermione would take what she could get and left the dragons at their table, heading for the grounds outside. Just before she passed out of the Great Hall, she turned and saw Jake watching her leave, bits of his toothy grin showing once again. She had a feeling they'd be meeting again in no time at all.

* * *

"You know, you used to be a lot smoother with the ladies," Haley called as they flew over the grounds. Jake stuttered mid-flight, glaring at his sister over his shoulder.

"And who said I was trying to be smooth? Haley, they think we're giant lizards," Jake reminded her. "Besides," he added in a sullen tone, "I'm pretty sure her and Ron are…well…a _thing_."

"Must we _all_ attend this event?" Sun complained, flying just behind them. "I had planned a meditation session with Haley for the afternoon."

"And I a training session in your Old Magic, young one," Lao Shi added.

"Guys, c'mon, how can you say that you're learning about the wizarding community if you don't even know about their most popular sport?"

"Couldn't agree more, mate," Nerk chimed. "It looks like fun, too. All we ever do for competition is race, a new game will spice things up." Jake felt like reminding Nerk that they wouldn't actually be playing, but it seemed unwise to depress his only support in the matter.

They were nearing the pitch, the observation towers defying the flat landscape and connecting into a giant oval with the continuous deck of spectator benches. The Gryffindor team were just walking out onto the field, brooms in hand and looking around at their audience. A few people from various houses were scattered around the benches, along with the large group of green and silver students clustered together on bleachers near the midline of the pitch. The Slytherins were already acting obnoxious and disrespectful to the practicing team, but to their credit the Gryffindors appeared to be successfully ignoring them.

Jake led the group, circling once high above the pitch while scanning the faces of the people observing. He finally found Hermione and descended towards the bleachers she was seated at. The others followed him and soon they were landing softly on top of the wooden seating area, which thankfully was sparse but for Granger. She turned at hearing a sound behind her and beamed with happiness as Jake walked up to join her at the railing, the rest of the dragons at his heels.

"So, did we win yet?" Jake asked, leaning over the rail to see the players in a ring talking. Ron had seen them land and gave a short wave to Jake before getting yelled at by the loud girl with braids to pay attention.

Hermione gave a short laugh. "Not quite, though I may just hex Parkinson if she keeps opening her fat mouth," she threatened, looking over at the howling group of Slytherins.

"It almost looks like a football field with the tall yellow goal posts," Haley commented.

"Since when is that in football? Or is that just how you Americans play it?" Nerk questioned.

"Two different footballs, kid," Dominic answered. "Our football is their soccer."

"Wait, so is this 'Quidditch' like football or soccer?" Sun asked.

"Neither! It's like…well…" Jake struggled. Hermione was thoroughly entertained by their lesson, and below them the players had mounted their brooms and took up positions in the air to make a giant circle, passing the dimpled, maroon ball from one player to the next.

"Okay, just listen," Jake began, drawing their attention. "That ball there is called the Quaffle; it's like the soccer ball."

"Told you it was like football…" Nerk interjected.

"Whatever, fine, _it's like soccer_. Each team has seven players: three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper, and one Seeker. The chasers try and score points by throwing the Quaffle through the other team's hoops, and every goal is worth ten points."

"Why are there three hoops? Why not just one big one, like in soccer?" Haley questioned.

" _Because this isn't soccer!_ " Jake shouted in frustration. A couple of the Gryffindor players looked over in worry at the outburst.

"Actually, before hoops were standardized, wizards played in orchards and used tree branches for the goals, so naturally there were multiple pairs of branches to aim for," Hermione explained. The dragons all looked at her as though suddenly remembering she were there. Their stares made her shrink away when Lao Shi asked the next question.

"I assume that the one known as the "Keeper" would be the 'goalie', in this case?"

"You got it, G. They try and block the chasers from scoring points." Jake confirmed with a sigh of relief. The players at this point had finished passing the Quaffle around, both while motionless and while flying in erratic formations, without a single fumble. The twins and Harry flew down to the chest on the field and opened it, two bullet-like balls shooting out and beginning to zip around the field.

"Crikey, what are _those_?" Nerk asked as Ron barely skimmed away from one of the streaking black masses.

"Those are the Bludgers, and they fly around trying to knock the players off of their brooms. The two Beaters on the team have bats that they use to hit the Bludgers at the other team."

"Well, that's… _violent_." Sun remarked.

"I like it," Dominic said with fervor.

"And what about the last person, this _Seeker_?" Lao Shi asked.

"They're the ones who end the game. Each team's Seeker tries to catch this tiny little golden ball called a Snitch, and whoever catches it first ends the game and gets 150 points for their team." Jake finished.

" _150 points?!_ " Nerk shouted incredulously, again drawing some stares. "Don't even try to explain how that's fair, mate. You might as well just have everyone on the team chasing after the little thing!"

"It's very difficult to catch, and games can go on for hours before it's even seen," Hermione explained. "Also, if anyone but the Seeker tries to catch it, it's a penalty."

"There are penalties? Ron never explained that," Jake asked.

"Oh yes, about 700 different penalties all told," Hermione said, her wrinkled face suggesting she was trying to recall each and every one. Shaking out of her trance, she sat on the bench behind her, pulling a textbook out of her bag after having lost interest in the flying wizards. Ron was blocking the shots of the chasers, Harry zooming around after what must have been the Golden Snitch (though Jake couldn't see it), and the twins batting the two Bludgers to each other in a hypnotizing juggle.

"Leave it to wizards to make a game so unnecessarily complex," Sun giggled.

"It still looks like fun, minus the flying bowling balls," Haley argued.

Lao Shi turned to Jake. "Alright, young dragon, we've indulged this _cultural adventure_ long enough. It's time we returned to…"

" _BLUDGER!_ " came the screams of the Quidditch players. A strange garbling sound was growing louder as the dragons all snapped their heads into the air. Lao Shi, quicker than the others, leapt up off of the wooden platform, his cloak left behind in the maneuver. He twisted his long serpentine body, his tail colliding solidly with the charmed ball that had been streaking towards them. The resulting _WHACK_ sent it soaring toward the posts Ron was guarding. He ducked with a high pitched squeal, the Bludger flying perfectly through the center hoop.

" _Hah!_ " the blue serpent cheered, coughing gently at the looks of the other dragons.

"Wicked!" the twins shouted in unison. The entire Gryffindor team had flown over at the call for the rogue Bludger, fearing for the worst. Even the Slytherins at the opposite end of the pitch had watched with bated breath.

"Please, I'm…it was an accident, we…they'll be getting a _stern_ …" Angelina flustered, hovering near Lao Shi, though still at what most would consider a safe distance.

"It is alright, young one, no one was harmed." Lao Shi assured her, which did little to ease her frantic search for an acceptable apology.

"Of course," Dominic called, taking flight to hover in place next to Lao Shi, "you'll still have to make it up to us. It _was_ pretty close, but I think that nifty little red ball will make up for it," he sneered, pointing a claw at the Quaffle clenched in the hands of one of the female Chasers. Her eyes flew open in fear as the forest green dragon turned to her expectantly.

"What on Earth…" Sun began asking Dominic, confused by his seemingly childish display of intimidation.

"Ah ah ah, Sun, this is a _learning_ experience and they must understand that their carelessness will have repercussions," Dominic interrupted her, looking back to the Chaser and beckoning to her for the ball with his hand. She gently tossed it underhanded to Dominic, who caught it and tucked it beneath his arm, giving an approving nod in return. Angelina was positively livid at this point, her reproaching gaze at the twins causing them to shrink in their clothes. Harry's eyes were squinted, watching Jake below as if to blame him for the catastrophe.

"Very good, and of course if you can demonstrate that you've all sincerely come to regret your mistake, you may have it back," Dominic finished with a grin.

"What is he _doing_?" Jake whispered to the yellow dragon beside him.

"Haven't got a clue, mate. Maybe he ate some bad roast for lunch."

Lao Shi had a knowing look as he watched Dominic, who was now spinning the Quaffle on the tip of one of his claws. "And what do you think, Dragon Master, is a fitting punishment for their irresponsible behavior?" he asked.

"Oh, it's nothing _too_ painful," Dominic paused, enjoying the terrified expressions of the Gryffindor team members, many of whom were likely reevaluating their commitment to the sport. "I think beating the Dragons of Draco Isle in a friendly game of Quidditch will suffice."

That took everyone by surprise. The terror in the faces of the Gryffindor team was replaced with deep confusion, except for the twins, who of course found the proposition to be a splendid idea.

"You've _got_ to be joking," Hermione groaned, only to be reaffirmed as Jake, Nerk, and Haley all streaked into the air, abandoning their thick grey cloaks on the bleachers with the others.

"Now wait just a minute!" a bemused Sun shouted as she joined them all in the sky. "You can't all possibly be serious; we can't play Quidditch against them!"

"She has a point, G," Jake said, earning a hopeful look from the teal dragon until he continued, "we only have six people. Even if we are dragons, we're outnumbered."

"Not a problem at all!" one of the twins chimed in. "I'll sit this one out. You don't really need two beaters, and George here can play well enough for both of us."

"Besides," George added, looking at his brother, "we'll need a ref, won't we?" Fred excitedly pulled out his wand and an old woolen hat from within his robes. A tap of his wand made the fabric shimmer and change into a black and white striped cap, which he proudly slapped on his head.

Jake turned to face the other dragons. "Gramps, you can be our Beater, you put the _pounding_ on that last Bludger. Sun, you can be the Keeper so you won't have to get _violent_." The notion didn't seem to comfort her. "Nerk, you're the fastest, so you can be the Seeker." He puffed his chest out at Jake's compliment. "So that leaves Dominic, Haley, and the Am-Drag as the Chasers, sound good?" Lao Shi merely chuckled to himself with crossed arms, the others looking eager to get started. Sun seemed resigned to her fate and let out one last defeated sigh.

"How about it, Johnson?" Fred asked their captain, who up until this point never lost her expression of utter disbelief.

She eyed Dominic warily, her fear of him warring with her desire to retrieve their hostage Quaffle. "We win, you give it back, yeh?"

"A dragon never lies, my dear," Dominic promised with an over-the-top bow. She brushed her braided hair out of her face before turning to their referee with a smirk. "Ready the chest, Fred."

"It's a match!" he shouted triumphantly, waving his wand into the air and producing a flurry of blinding sparks. Overhead and aligned with the long side of the pitch away from the school, a magical outline formed into the shape of a scoreboard, showing a tied game of zero points between _Gryffindor_ and _Dragons_. The few spectators below were clapping excitedly, not counting the Slytherins, who were disappointed at the lack of the dragons devouring a few Gryffindors, and Hermione, who still had a look of immense disapproval on her face.

" _Form up!_ " Angelina called, her team clumping together at the bottom center of the field. The dragons imitated their movements and came together for a last minute discussion. Fred was still summoning back one of the Bludgers and the Snitch as both teams huddled up.

"Dominic, we have no idea what we're doing!" Sun scolded him.

"Relax, Sun, this is just for fun. All you have to worry about is guarding the hoops. We all have a general idea of our roles, just do what they do, except _better_ ," he finished with a wink.

"To your positions!" the referee called. The dragons mirrored the places of their Gryffindor counterparts as they hovered around the center of the pitch, Dominic and Angelina standing below on the field facing one another.

"Captains will politely shake claws," Fred ordered. Angelina hesitated for a moment before stiffly gripping the monstrous hand of Dominic, giving it a curt squeeze and shake.

"On my mark then!" Fred, without a whistle, aimed his wand at the sky again. "Three, two,…" he shot a red flare straight up, exploding like a firework with a lout _CRACK_. The Quaffle launched skyward from the chest below, along with the two Bludgers and the Golden Snitch. The Quaffle seemed to hang in the air at its apex for just a moment before all hell broke loose.

Jake had shot forward and snatched the Quaffle, barreling through the opposing team towards Ron's hoops. Though the two had practiced this very same routine several times before, Jake was no longer in it for the sake of training his friend. He was here to win. He dove and careened, faking to every side he could while dodging a Bludger before finally hurling the Quaffle to the far goal. To his credit, Ron had brushed the tips of his fingers against the ball, but it still managed to slip through the ring.

" _The Dragons score!_ " Fred's voice boomed, somehow magically amplified. Yellow flares flew from his wand and the scoreboard above sparked to life, a dazzling _10_ now visible beneath their moniker.

"Better step up your game, Ron!" Jake taunted as he flew to retrieve the Quaffle.

"That's the last shot you'll ever make, scales-for-brains!" Ron shot back with a grin. The Gryffindor chasers had been in a lazy stupor at the start, fleeing in surprise when the red dragon had launched itself at the Quaffle, but the quick score against them had given them renewed focus. Angelina flew to Jake and caught the Quaffle as he passed it to her to bring back into the game.

"This is mad," she laughed, reversing and flying toward the opposite end of the pitch. The other two girls closed ranks beside her in formation. "Alicia, take the forward position! Katie and I will run the…" They reflexively dispersed, the pink dragon having dived right into them and making a grab for the Quaffle beneath Angelina's arm. She found Katie and passed her the ball while Haley was hounding her, though Katie was forced away by a Bludger from Lao Shi. The Quaffle fell a ways until Dominic swooped in and plucked it from the air.

"Thank you kindly!" he shouted, bolting back towards Ron. He wound back his arm for the throw before being slammed in the back by George's own Bludger, the strike making the Quaffle fly off target. Ron easily caught it and passed it off to Alicia. She made a break down the pitch for the Dragons' goals, swerving from Jake's assault and passing to Angelina, who dove in as close to Sun as she dared before chucking it at the right ring. Jake had considered the goal made as soon as Angelina had mad it that close, and was dumbstruck when Sun gracefully intercepted the Quaffle and thumped it with her elbow into Haley's awaiting hands.

"I…I did it! That was _wonderful_!" she cheered, not seeing the rogue Bludger until it collided with her side, injuring her ego more than anything. The three dragon Chasers hurried back towards Ron, Dominic whispering directions as they went. Ron could only watch as all three approached, constantly tossing the Quaffle between them until they all dispersed and mimicked a throwing motion at the last instant. Ron swept up to defend the center goal, hoping that Dominic would end up with the Quaffle. He met with disappointment as Haley's shot made it through the left hoop with a loud _Ding_.

" _Another for the Dragons!_ " Fred boomed to more yellow sparks, the scoreboard now reading nil to twenty. " _C'mon you lot, at least_ try _to put up a fight_ _!_ "

"CAN IT, WEASLEY!" Angelina shouted back to their impromptu ref as she charged down the pitch once more.

"Crikey, how are we supposed to _find_ the little devil?!" Nerk yelled over the wind roaring in his ears as he and Harry circled high above the pitch, searching for the yet to be found Golden Snitch.

"No idea, but if you figure it out let me know!" Potter called back.

" _Gryffindor score!_ " came another booming announcement, followed by red flares. Nerk could hear cheering from below, but was too focused on finding this impossibly small speck to pay much attention to anything else. The game went on for what felt like hours, all the while Nerk and Potter searching frantically for the Snitch. At one point he'd thought he'd seen it and immediately entered into a dive with Harry hot on his trail, only to find the glimmering remnants of one of Fred's yellow sparks. After continuing his search for a while longer, Nerk's focus waned with exhaustion, and he was distracted by what he had failed to notice building up during their entire game.

"Another Bludger from Blue catches Alicia in the back and she fumbles, shake it off Spinnet! Green recovers the Quaffle, George's Bludger misses, he passes to Red, Red rolls into range of the Gryffindor hoops, _he shoots, NICE SAVE by Weasley!_ " the crowd below roared in applause for the Gryffindor keeper. Who was announcing the match, and when had the bleachers filled with students? The professors, even the headmaster himself, had also seen fit to join, huddled together at the top of an observation tower. Professor McGonagall in particular was on her feet and howling words of encouragement for her house's team. Nerk looked up at the scoreboard, which showed the Gryffindors in a slight lead, 200 to 180.

"Bell's got the Quaffle and she's out for blood! Pink swoops in, Bell passes to Johnson, Green and Red are almost on her, _look at that reversal!_ Johnson passes to Spinnet, Spinnet looks to score, it's all up to the Dragon Keeper, _and Teal blocks the shot!_ " Again, the crowd below burst into an uproar of cheers. Nerk was enthralled by the spectacle before a shine out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. In a split-second he was gone, flying with every ounce of strength he could muster. Harry had seen his change of course, the fear of being too late shining behind his shaking glasses as he rushed to catch up.

"Green's soaring down the pitch, Red intercepts a Bludger from the Gryffindor Beater, nice shot Weasley! Wait…it looks like the Seekers have found something, and Yellow is in the lead!" The crowd was beside itself now, watching avidly as the two streaked around the pitch. "Green passes to Pink, Pink and Red swerve together for another feint, can Weasley stop the point? They fan out and shoot, _Weasley guesses right, BRILLIANT catch Ron!_ Wait, where on Earth are they going?!"

Everyone, even the players, stopped to look straight up. Nerk and Harry were nearly vertical, climbing at an astonishing rate into the sky and away from the pitch, both with extended arms. Lao Shi and George both found their targets and simultaneously hit a Bludger each up at the other team's Seeker.

"The Bludgers are off! Will they get the Snitch in time or will the Bludgers get to them first? They're going to get nosebleeds if they go any further, _hold on, they've stopped! Have they got the Snitch?_ " The two figures had halted their ascent and floated in the air apart, tiny specks against the vast, unending sky. Fred summoned a pair of binoculars from a spectator and aimed them at the Seekers before touching the tip of his wand to his neck.

" _YELLOW HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!_ " he echoed across the castle grounds. A shower of yellow sparks exploded into the air, the scoreboard flaring to a blinding state, showing _Gryffindor – 200, Dragons – 330_. " _THE DRAGONS OF DRACO ISLE WIN!_ "

The audience below was beyond containment. Chants of _Dra-gons! Dra-gons!_ reverberated throughout the stands as the five dragons still below all came together in a celebratory circle.

"Aw yah! That's how we _do_! Dragons of Draco Isle _REPRESENT_!" Jake cheered, shooting a pillar of flame into the sky, the others joining in his excitement. The Gryffindor team was gathering as well and approaching them, when a sickening _crack_ sounded through the air.

They all looked up to see Harry plummeting to the Earth, his limp body tumbling through the air with his broom lazily gliding down behind him. Nerk was streaking after him, trying to reach the unconscious wizard. He soon realized that he would never catch up in time. In a stroke of inspiration from Jake, he tucked his body in close and roared a blast of fire behind him, rocketing forward at an alarming speed toward the ground below.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Dominic commanded everyone, wizards and dragons alike quickly retreating to the edge of the pitch. Nerk zeroed in on Harry's form. Just as he leveled with the boy, he unfurled his body and snatched Potter in both arms like an oversized, misshapen Quaffle. Dominic was nearby, closing in to try and catch the two, when Nerk tossed the boy upwards at him. The green dragon was completely unprepared but managed to catch Harry safely. His approach having come to a grinding halt, Dominic helplessly watched in distress as Nerk continued on his course.

" _FRED!_ " Jake roared while flying in his direction, desperately trying to reach him. The yellow dragon aligned himself and extended his wings, but one collapsed under the sudden strain. He twisted in the air, unable to stop himself, until he smashed into the ground belly-up with a gut wrenching impact.

The onlookers could only watch in horror, the pitch so quiet only the breeze could be heard, as the cloud of dust settled. The red dragon landed swiftly beside his unmoving friend, his gaze finding the bent wings, twisted limbs, and bleeding muzzle of the Australian Dragon. Jake was terrified, frozen in place.

" _No_ …"

Nerk's body suddenly trembled and heaved with labored coughing. One eye slowly cracked open, focusing on Jake with difficulty. His next words made Jake want to mutilate and embrace his friend all at once.

"Did…" another fit of bloody coughing overtook him, "…did we win?"


	11. A Terrible Price to Pay

_Kill the spare…_

_Thump, thump, thump_

_I can touch...you...now…_

_Thump, thump, thump_

_Take my body back, Harry…_

_Thump, thump, thump_

The first thing Harry thought of was why someone was, what sounded like, continually slamming their trunk lid closed, over and over again. It was horribly irritating and made him want to throttle the git responsible, which led to his second thought: everything was so _heavy_. His arms felt like lead, his head like a cinder block. It took a great deal of effort, but he managed to shift the sheets covering him away and tried to lift his head.

"Well it's about time," Ron said somewhere to his left. Harry could hear the shuffling of papers, but even with his eyes open the world remained a blur.

"Here, let me help you," Hermione followed. Harry felt something slip over his nose, and the faces of his friends quickly came into focus. They both looked relieved as they all sat in Harry and Ron's dormitory, the light coming in through the window showing it was at least past noon.

"Um, thank you, Hermione, but why are we in our room?" he asked, his head still aching noticeably.

She and Ron shared a worried look with each other before she turned back to Harry. "Please, Harry, try and think back. What do you remember?"

He really wasn't in the mood for a mental exercise, but Harry obliged her regardless. Of course, he could remember the nightmare, but before that? It had felt like the weekend, and they had just left the Great Hall from lunch for…Quidditch practice? Though that hadn't lasted long, what with the dragons and all…

"The Quidditch match!" he shouted in remembrance. What had been a friendly indulgence of the green dragon's idea of "punishment" had become a spectacle for the entire school, and a fine spectacle it was. Both teams were superb, especially considering that the dragons had clearly never set foot on a Quidditch pitch before, and it had been _close_. Though they were slightly ahead, it was still within either side winning by a Snitch when their Seeker, the yellow dragon, had flown into a dive. The chase ensued and before he knew it they were soaring nearly vertical and far beyond where Harry had ever dared to fly before. They were practically flying against each other's stomachs, desperately trying to cover the last inches between them and their golden prize, when the yellow dragon had gotten his last surge in strength and snatched it out of the sky.

It had been incredibly close, and the last minute defeat crushed Harry. They had both paused in the air and he had looked ruefully at the yellow dragon that had outpaced him, only to find him gasping for breath.

"You…can really _fly_ ," the dragon had complimented him, giving him a smile before reeling in startled surprise, the Bludger just passing him by. "Talk about thunder from…HARRY!"

After that, nothing. He turned back to reality, his two friends waiting expectantly. "We were chasing the Snitch and the dragon had just caught it. We were resting when a Bludger nearly took his head off, and then…that's it."

Ron grimaced before informing him, "Well, turns out there were _two_ Bludgers."

Suddenly the pounding headache and constant thumping made a lot more sense. Harry dropped his head in his hands with a groan of disappointment. "I didn't even see it coming…" he mumbled to himself. "How long was I out?"

"Oh, only through the night. It's Sunday, and you just missed lunch," Hermione answered. "We've been doing homework, keeping an eye on you until you came around."

"What, I wasn't good enough for Madam Pomfrey?" Harry joked, reaching for a glass of water resting on his nightstand. Hermione and Ron both suddenly looked very uncomfortable, not exactly what Harry had been shooting for. "I'm only joking guys, it's not that serious and I already feel loads better."

Hermione shook her head gently, her hair bouncing slightly. "It's not that, it's…it's Fred," she answered, her eyes lingering on the entrance to their dorm.

Harry sat up straight at that, shocked by the unwelcome news. "But Fred was reffing, what happened? Was it a rogue Bludger, a…a faulty broom?"

"You've got it wrong, Harry. Not Fred Weasley, Fred the _dragon_ , he was their Seeker," Ron clarified with an understanding smile.

"The dragon? But he was fine last I remember, the Bludger missed…" Harry thought hard to think of anything else happening that would put a dragon in the Hospital Wing.

Hermione placed a hand on his knee reassuringly. "Don't blame yourself, Harry, it wasn't your fault. The Bludger knocked you out cold…"

"Like a sack of potatoes," Ron interjected.

"…and you fell of your broom. Fred managed to get to you and throw you to their captain, but he couldn't stop himself in time and he…"

"I get it," Harry interrupted. He didn't need the details of the accident to know the dragon had been seriously injured because of him. What he did need was to find Fred and make sure he was alright. He threw his covers off and got to his feet, chasing off a sudden wave of dizziness and finding his wardrobe.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Hermione questioned him sternly.

"The Hospital Wing, where do you think?" He slipped a pair of clean black robes over his pajamas, found his socks and shoes, and stuffed his wand into his pocket haphazardly. It was the best he could manage to clean up in a hurry, so it would have to do. "You coming?" he asked them both.

Hermione looked like she was on the verge of arguing, but a quick begging look from Ron and her own desire to see the dragon for herself stopped her short. They both fell into step beside Harry, still wary of his injured state as they left Gryffindor Tower and headed down the steps.

"You guys haven't seen him since yesterday? Do you know if he's okay?" Harry asked them as they made their way through the stone corridors, a few of the passing students whispering at his unusual ensemble.

"The dragons and professors immediately took him off of the field after it happened, it was over rather quickly. Flitwick and McGonagall sent everyone off of the pitch and no one's been allowed inside the ward since, except for the dragons. They wouldn't even let you recover inside, though Madam Pomfrey wasn't too concerned about your condition," Hermione answered in a rush.

"But as far as we know, he's fine. He just had the stuffing beat outta him is all," Ron added. Harry wasn't convinced, however. He knew how high they had been. A fall like that would beat much more out of you than your stuffing.

They were approaching the corridor to the Hospital Wing now, the entrance lying around the next corner. Just as Hermione had predicted, the doors appeared to be barred shut and not a soul was in sight. They all slowed their pace to a crawl, however, as they neared and clearly heard what sounded like a heated argument coming from inside the ward itself. A loud, powerful voice that Harry vaguely recognized boomed from just behind the doors, making them all freeze in place.

" _…_ _if the wizarding community learns about us it will be just like before. If they learn about our secret, it will be the end of the Dragons of Draco Isle…"_

* * *

The two toy balls were slowly moving in a circle above Jake's outstretched hand, bobbing gently as he willed them to continue. He sat in the Hospital Wing with the other dragons, all once again covered in their grey cloaks. In the center of them was an enlarged bed covered in a complex contraption of ropes and pulleys that slung itself over the still body of the Australian Dragon. He laid on his belly, his neck fit through an elongated brace, an arm and a leg trapped at his sides in casts and held in slings just off of the bed, and both wings bound with gauze going every which way, hanging in place by the system of suspension wiring. If the whole setup wasn't significantly easing Nerk's suffering, Jake would have thought it a very funny sight and mocked him relentlessly.

As it was, Jake was exhausted. He'd barely slept since the accident, both out of worry for his friend and because of the memories from yesterday that refused to grant him peace enough for sleep. Though he was the first to Fred's side after his fall, the others had swiftly been upon them. Dominic expressed no emotion, only barking orders and orchestrating Nerk's transfer up to the school. Jake and Haley had to hold back the Gryffindor team, who were desperately trying to get closer and help, even though there was nothing they could do for the dragon, while Sun and Lao Shi performed what immediate treatment they could. Somehow, Nerk had managed to maintain his dragon form despite the pain he must have been enduring, a feat that not many dragons could claim to have accomplished. Professor Dumbledore had soon arrived, freezing Nerk's body in place so that he could be levitated up to the school with the procession of dragons in tow behind him. It had actually been very difficult, as Dumbledore's spells refused to have any effect on the dragon until his wand was literally jammed against his scaly chest.

It was one of the longest walks of Jake's life. They had made it to the hospital and the Dragon Masters quickly prepared Nerk's accommodations. The next few hours were filled with rapid commands and furiously working hands, Jake and Haley waiting outside and blocking any students that tried to interfere. Most of them had been nothing more than nosey passer-by trying to catch a glimpse of the curiosities; others, however, were truly concerned for Nerk's well-being after seeing his selfless heroism to save the Potter boy.

The hardest had been when Johnson, Bell, Spinnet, Granger, and the Weasleys had come to check on him. Jake and Haley couldn't give them any news about Nerk, let alone let them into the ward. They were both still so deep in shock that neither could speak a word, responding only with stares and head movements. Johnson seemed desperate to see him, so Jake had decided to try and change the subject.

"How's Potter?" he choked in a thick voice.

Johnson was taken aback a little, as though the question was irrelevant. "He's fine, sleeping in his bed like a baby," she dismissed with a wave. Jake nodded at that and resumed his stoic post.

The Gryffindor team realized that they would get nowhere and soon left. The night had been quiet after that and the two students were soon called back into the ward by their masters. Nerk had been slung up in his strange assembly and Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey left the room to the Dragons for their desired privacy. Jake couldn't help but cringe every time he looked at Nerk's form, despite his master's reassurances.

"We have given him the necessary salves and draughts. Both wings had several breaks. His left arm was broken, as well as his left leg and a couple of the ribs on his left side. His neck was twisted in a few places, and there were occasional tears and cuts throughout his body." Lao Shi listed, never having looked so completely defeated, while Dominic was simply sitting next to Nerk, staring intently at his seemingly peaceful student.

"Is he going to be alright, Grandpa?" Haley asked, making no attempt to hide her concern.

Lao Shi dipped his head before replying, "Yes, he will be fine. In fact, with the bone regrowth poultices from Madam Pomfrey, he should be able to leave the ward by Monday, though the recovery will be very difficult for him." He looked to Sun, who was mumbling a sort of lullaby while running her hands over the yellow dragon's hide. "Sun is keeping him in a deep sleep to alleviate some of the pain. Now, we can only wait."

So they had waited. Nothing had changed by morning, and they all refused to leave until Nerk finally awoke. Some of the house elves had been kind enough to bring them a plate or two of food for their missed meals, though they remained largely untouched. The day had passed uneventfully, and here they were, still standing vigil over their fallen brother. The only thing that was almost as bad as seeing his broken friend was the thought of how great everything had been going before Potter lost his broom. Everyone in the school had actually been cheering and applauding the Dragons of Draco Isle instead of cowering away from them. They had been so close to finally being accepted, treated like they weren't monsters, _so close_.

" _Jake_ ," Lao Shi said. The red dragon opened his eyes to see the two balls were making a steady hum, spinning feverishly in a blur over his hand. They instantly froze at Jake's stare and fell to the floor, rolling away under neighboring cots. Jake stood to retrieve them when the doors to the infirmary began to gently creak open.

Jake quickly approached the entrance, intent on throwing out whoever was gutsy enough to intrude on them, but stopped short when the dapper man stepped into the room.

"Stout?" Jake asked confused.

"A little birdy told me," he began, closing the door behind him and stepping forward to stand in front of Jake with a finger pointed at him, "that you lot couldn't make it a week without causing trouble."

Jake almost threw back a heated reply before Stout brushed passed him and approached the dragons sitting around Nerk's bed. "How is he?"

Lao Shi relayed all that had transpired and Nerk's resulting condition to Stout, who thought for a moment on what he had learned. He rubbed the back of his head, his face an unreadable slate.

"Well," he drug out the word with a sigh, "at least Fred is alright. I suppose that's all we can ask for."

" _Does he look alright to you?_ " Dominic snarled at the man, suddenly resembling the beast most of the students feared them to be. "He was in so much pain that we had trouble just knocking him out. He was coughing up so much blood that he could barely _breathe_." Dominic was on his feet, his chest heaving with furious, rattled breathing. He turned back to his student, the rage in his eyes fading to remorse. "This boy is a lot of things, Stout, but _alright_ is not one of them…"

Still, Stout's expression remained unfaltering. He simply watched the green dragon before him shake uncontrollably with emotions that had until now remained bottled up, listening patiently as Dominic lamented, "How can someone so careless ever believe themself to be a Dragon Master?"

"This is _not_ your fault, Dominic," Lao Shi immediately responded. "If anyone holds responsibility for this, it is me. My actions, after all, were what knocked the young Gryffindor off of his broom. I put them both in danger for the sake of a childish game." Now it was Lao Shi's turn to bow in shame beside Dominic, resting his hand on the grieving dragon's shoulder.

"Look, yo, I know that we've been doing everything possible to make sure we didn't let the wizards know about our little secret, but we all know Nerk would heal faster in his human form. His wings wouldn't be a problem, and he wouldn't be in nearly as much pain," Jake pointed out to the English Dragon, who had been the one to impose the stringent rules on them in the first place.

"Above all else," Stout answered slowly with a menacing tone Jake never imagined the man capable of, "our hosts must _never_ come to know about our true forms."

It wasn't what Jake had wanted to hear. "Then you'd rather Nerk sit here being tortured? We can bar the doors! We'll block the windows, stand guard outside…"

"ENOUGH," Stout commanded, quieting Jake and plunging the room into utter silence. "This is no game, American Dragon, this is the fate of our entire race. The danger may not be as obvious as when we dealt the Huntsclan, but the wizarding community is the single greatest threat to our kind imaginable. Has it not occurred to you that there may be a VERY good reason that we have remained so distant for centuries?"

Jake gave no answer, realizing he'd simply accepted the fact, never considering it before. "I thought not," Stout said. "Wizards long ago feared us for our command of Old Magic and our many abilities that help us remain hidden when we wish. We only ever acted as guardians of magical creatures, as we still do, but they lusted after our seats of authority. They knew our secret, Jake, and used that knowledge to strike at us in horrific ways, to annihilate almost every dragon in the world." He looked Jake dead in the eye, allowing the message to sink in. The other dragons seemed just as interested and surprised at this story, all except for Lao Shi.

"It has taken us generations to try and reach our former strength, for them to forget all that they knew about us, and only now are we on the precipice of recovery. We can either learn from history, Jake, or be doomed to repeat it." His eyes finally began to soften, almost pleading with the red dragon at this point. "I can promise you that if the wizarding community learns about us it will be just like before. If they learn about our secret, it will be the end of the Dragons of Draco Isle, of everyone you love and care about. We trusted them once before, Jake, and we paid a _terrible_ price. Don't make the same mistake."

The American Dragon had nothing to say to that. Had they really been brought to the point of extinction by witches and wizards? By men like Dumbledore? By the people his new friends would one day become?

"You all sure do like to yabber…"

Everyone swiftly turned to Fred's slurred complaint. "Don't try to move anything, Fred," Sun cooed, again running her claws along the length of his body to soothe him.

"Couldn't if I wanted to," he answered, tilting his head to lay it on its side.

"How are ya feeling, kid?" Dominic asked gently, fear just barely trickling into his otherwise professional front.

Fred chuckled sofly, "Oh, just _spiffy_ ," before he began coughing again, thankfully not nearly as badly as the previous night. "Though I wouldn't mind a drink," he added woozily.

Haley had a glass of water to his muzzle in seconds, which he drank eagerly. They were all beyond relieved to see him awake and speaking normally, despite Pomfrey's and Dumbledore's promises that he hadn't sustained significant head trauma. Naturally, the first things he asked for were water, food, and for someone to scratch a spot on his shoulder that had been itching for ages. Stout was back to his jovial self, swooning over Nerk's recovery and complimenting him on his heroic actions, the attention making Nerk want to shy away into some dark corner.

"I still question the wisdom of engaging the young wizards in a Quidditch match," Stout said doubtfully, giving them all a look of deep concern before allowing a sly grin to bleed into his expression, "but I'll be _damned_ if it didn't speed this whole process along quite nicely. Honestly, you can't plan these things…"

"Believe me, diving into a nice, hard pile of dirt wasn't exactly the goal," Fred huffed.

"It's not just that, it's…well, I think you'll all see what I mean soon enough," Stout teased as though dangling a juicy piece of gossip in front of them. A bell sounded in the distance and Lao Shi turned to look out the window at the ever darkening sky.

"Jake, it will be time for dinner soon," his grandfather informed him. "Go to the Great Hall and alert the headmaster that Fred is awake and feeling well, he'll appreciate the good news."

Jake gave an obedient nod and headed for the infirmary doors. Now that Nerk's health wasn't occupying his every waking thought, his exhaustion and biting hunger were catching up with him. He was thinking of grabbing some food for the others on his way back as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway where a group of three Gryffindors were huddled into a circle and whispering. They all jumped at his appearance and looked at him with mixed expressions of surprise and uncertainty like they'd just been caught peeking through his living room window.

Hermione immediately greeted him with a forced smile. "Oh! Hi, Jake…"

* * *

The sound of shuffling feet and claws clicking against stone floors came from within, followed by urgent conversation that was too low for Harry, Ron, or Hermione to make out clearly. They each looked to each other, confusion at what they had just heard passing between them.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked them, hoping at least Hermione may have some inkling of the meaning behind the dragons' strange conversation.

"I don't know…" Hermione answered reluctantly, "but it sounds like they're afraid of witches and wizards for some reason."

" _If they learn about us it'll be just like before_? What happened before?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Well he said it, didn't he?" Hermione answered. "He said _it will be the end of the Dragons of Draco Isle_ , but I've never heard about a conflict between them and wizards…"

"And that rubbish about _not making the same mistake_ ," Ron added, "I reckon they know something we don't."

"It must have to do with whatever secret they kept going on about, and who was it that was talking anyway? I _know_ I've heard that voice before…" Hermione struggled, desperately trying to recall details long lost in the depths of her memories. They stood in their huddle for a while, unsure of what to do next, when Harry recalled why they had come in the first place.

"I'm going to knock and see if Fred's awake yet," Harry told them.

"You're barking mad if you think they'll let you in, Harry," Ron countered in disbelief.

Hermione implored him, "We should give them time, Harry, they're probably still shaken up about…"

The doors to the Hospital Wing creaked open and Jake stepped out into the hallway, his gray cloak tight around him and his eyes taking in the group before him. They all looked up in panic, thinking the red dragon knew what they had heard.

"Oh! Hi, Jake…" Hermione jumped in, acting as innocent as possible.

To her delight, Jake seemed much more relaxed than yesterday. "What's up Hermione? Ron?" he turned and saw Harry, his eyes squinting ever so slightly, whether in disdain or concern Hermione wasn't sure. "Still seeing stars, Harry?"

"Just a headache, but otherwise I'm fine," he said, looking at the crack in the doors behind the dragon. "How's Fred, can we see him?"

A small grin lit up Jake's scaled face. "He actually just woke up. I was on my way to tell Dumbledore the good news, but I don't think it would be a very good idea to…" he started saying slowly, trying his best to deter them from visiting when the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that had introduced the dragons a week before stepped out of the Hospital Wing as well.

"Who are you talking to, Jake?" the man asked, approaching the group.

The red dragon looked down at the well-dressed official, answering, "Oh, just a few students. This is Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley here are on the Gryffindor Quidditch team that we…" Jake's voice trailed off at the thought, suddenly wanting to change the subject.

Mr. Stout seemed to notice and put on his warmest smile. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet all of you! I'm guessing you were here to see Fred?" The three of them nodded, confirming his suspicions. "Yes, well, as I'm sure you're aware he has been severely injured and desperately needs his rest." They were all disappointed, but unsurprised, by Mr. Stout's answer, having known how unlikely it was that they'd be allowed into the ward.

"However…" Mr. Stout continued, glancing back at the doors behind him, "he's just woken up and appears to be in good spirits. No doubt seeing some familiar faces would help boost his morale…" he said happily before going back and ducking his head through the door, alerting the dragons that they had a few _visitors_ before turning back to them. "You may stay for a little while before dinner, but we'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that you visited personally. You know, crowds of people interfering with the healing process and all that," he reminded them before beckoning for Jake to follow him down the hallway.

The three Gryffindors eagerly walked through the Hospital Wing doors, Hermione covering her mouth with her hands, muffling her gasp of terror at seeing the overbearing contraption surrounding Fred. The dragons all sat around the yellow dragon's bed, their light discussion put on hold as they turned to welcome the students delicately walking toward them.

"Bloody _hell_ ," Ron whispered, his eyes following the pulleys and ropes strung up before him. "I knew it was bad, but…"

"What, this?" Fred answered, nodding at his stabilizing rig. "Nah, it looks a lot worse than it really is. I take it Lao Shi's Bludger didn't take _too_ much out of ya?" he asked looking at Harry, who still hadn't managed to shake his pained expression at Fred's condition.

Harry automatically rubbed his right temple where a gentle throbbing still pounded, shaking his head with a smile. "It would have been a lot worse if you hadn't, well…" Harry struggled, suddenly uncomfortable with everyone watching. He was still ashamed from his fall, and he was never good at emotional expression to begin with, but he managed to choke out, "Thank you, Fred, really. You saved my life."

The yellow dragon flicked his free hand dismissively, "Don't mention it, mate, you would've done the same for me. Besides, Gryffindor can't get their rematch if they don't have their Seeker, now can they?"

Harry and Ron both beamed at the thought, earning an annoyed " _Boys"_ from Hermione and Haley, both looking at the other in amusement.

"I still can't believe it, you all seriously never played Quidditch before?" Ron asked, stupefied by their outstanding performance.

"No, and we don't intend to again," Lao Shi answered solemnly, Dominic nodding his head in agreement. "It was callous and reckless of us to endanger you all in such a way," he apologized, facing Harry before bowing low in subservience. "Please, forgive us Mr. Potter."

Harry was legitimately astonished by the blue dragon's response. "There's nothing to forgive," he answered with joy, much to Lao Shi's confusion. "That was the most exciting game of Quidditch I've played in ages, and you all were fantastic! Getting banged up is a part of the game," his eyes quickly darting to Fred's bed again before correcting, "even if it's not the most enjoyable part. I've spent _plenty_ of nights in here."

Lao Shi didn't seem to accept the consolations, Sun taking his momentary silence to remind them, "Dinner's probably already started in the Great Hall, you won't want to miss the entire meal." The trio understood their dismissal and gave Fred their last parting wishes of a quick recovery before making their way through the corridors. They were all thankful that he would be well again soon, and quickly informed the Weasley twins, Johnson, Bell, and Spinnet of that fact at dinner, which greatly helped to soothe Johnson's nerves. Harry could tell she hadn't had much sleep after their match either, her braids coming undone and her robes sagging from her shoulders.

"Still," Hermione began as they ate alone, "I'm worried about what we heard Mr. Stout say. What secret are they trying to hide, and why does he know about it? What if there are others in the Ministry in on it, too?" She shot a quick glance at Umbridge at the head table.

"Honestly, Hermione, I've got too much homework to do tonight to even think about it," Ron answered, shivers of terror suddenly rocking Harry's spine. _He'd been knocked out and hadn't done any of his work_. His forehead collided with the table in exasperation, doing little to help his still aching head.

It was going to be another long night.


	12. Running Interference

"This is a joke, right?" Jake looked between the three Dragon Masters seated at his table in the Great Hall, his hopeful smile dying as none of them responded. "Please tell me this is a joke."

The newspaper popular among the wizards, the _Daily Prophet_ , was clutched in his hands, which were now shaking ever so slightly in rage. The main article in the day's paper was about the toad woman they all despised being given the position of _High Inquisitor_ at the school. Naturally, the article made mention of Dumbledore's supposed senility, citing his many 'eccentric decisions', of which the hosting of the Dragons of Draco Isle was included. Jake couldn't predict exactly what making Umbridge a High Inquisitor would entail, but it left a bad taste in his mouth all the same. He took the opportunity to practice his magic by suspending the black and white garbage in the air and making vicious ripping motions, tearing it to shreds over his empty plate.

"It does not sit well with me either, young dragon, but there is nothing we can do. No good will come from dwelling on it," Lao Shi consoled him, all the while glaring at Umbridge, who was seated up at the head table.

" _Dragons Cause Disaster at Quidditch Pitch,_ yah, convenient that they didn't mention Fred saving a student or anything…" Haley huffed, dragging her fork through her half eaten meal.

"Sensationalist journalism is never accurate, Haley, and is better left ignored than indulged," Sun advised her dreamily.

"It's almost as bad as _Magic Weekly_ …" Jake grumbled, tossing the last of a roll into his mouth. He looked over to the Gryffindor table and saw the usual trio equally irritated, and he was fairly certain he could guess the reason why.

The day went on, however, and before long Jake and Lao Shi were leaving Potions and walking out of the dungeons. Jake had used the period to look through one of Professor Snape's spare potions books, carefully examining the different recipes and noting nearly each one had several differences compared to what Fu had taught him. He desperately wanted to join in with the brewing, though Professor Snape had simply given him a cold stare when he'd asked for permission. Needless to say, he wasn't going to get his claws on any equipment in the near future.

History of Magic had passed in much the same way, most of it revolving around the 1652 Great Goblin Treaty of Bristol, until lunch was upon them. Jake and Lao Shi spent most of it visiting with Nerk, who at this point was being held down in his bed by Dominic. Nerk's insisting shouts of _I feel great, just let me go!_ fell on the deaf ears of his Dragon Master. By the time they'd reached the Great Hall, most of the students were leaving and on their way to their next class. Jake and Lao Shi had brought their own reading material to fill their free hour with and promptly found empty benches to get comfortable in. Jake was lazily flipping through his 'muggle' math textbook, dreading the problems he'd have to complete that night, when a noise from behind startled him.

"I don't think I've read that one…" Hermione commented with interest. Jake reflexively slammed the book shut before turning to her, faking an unassuming toothy smile and making sure his outstretched hand hid the entirety of its cover. Harry and Ron were still gathering their things from their table when she'd come to see him.

"What, this old thing? It's just, you know…" he stalled, desperately trying to think of some plausible explanation that didn't involve algebra.

Hermione just rolled her eyes with a smile before answering for him, "Dragon stuff?"

" _Exactly_ ," Jake agreed with a sigh of relief. Harry and Ron were nearly upon them now, having finished collecting their things. "See you guys later in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Though she knew he was avoiding her questions, Hermione gave him a disappointed smile and left the hall with the other two. Jake turned back to his own work and struggled to keep himself from glancing out of the windows every minute or so. He debated which was worse, his own schoolwork or having to listen to Umbridge's disgustingly sweet voice, deciding by the time they were leaving the hall that he probably should have appreciated his math work slightly more.

They found their enlarged seats in the back and retrieved the old copies of the students' textbooks that Lao Shi had acquired. As the students entered the room, most of them gave the dragons wistful glances, though Jake couldn't help but notice that their motions were filled with intrigue instead of fear. _Baby steps_ , he thought.

Once again, Umbridge had them reading silently from the textbook, Jake deciding to join them in the endeavor given that watching them all read had been fairly dull the previous week. The author almost seemed like he was trying his hardest to bore the snot out of Jake, the actual content about the principles of defensive spells being the only redeeming quality. Yet, once again, he was distracted as Hermione's hand stabbed into the air, drawing Umbridge's sickly attention. She briskly approached Hermione and attempted to whisper their inevitable conversation, Hermione of course being clever enough not to follow suit.

She had tried to strike up an intelligent discussion about the author's beliefs, hoping to draw out the vile woman into a more educational attitude, Jake thought. Her optimism inspired him, though he was unsurprised by the professor's harsh reaction to Hermione's advance, taking five points from Gryffindor for 'pointless disruptions'. What had alarmed him, however, was Harry, _once again_ , interjecting into the conversation. Lao Shi nudged him and raised an eyebrow at Potter's temper, nonverbally asking him _well, young dragon?_

"Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license…" Umbridge lectured in her poisonous voice, Harry's body language portraying his mounting fury. Jake was running out of time when an idea came to him. He gave his master a quick nod before turning back to the scene unfolding before them, cracking his knuckles beneath the wool of his cloak.

* * *

" _Don't you get involved!_ " Hermione snarled at Harry. He could feel the familiar heat rising through his face, the hatred for the stupid woman in front of him pouring out of his body. He could already barely stand to be in the same room as her after the article in the _Daily Prophet_ that morning, not to mention how she'd treated Professor Trelawney during their Divination class earlier. But for her to act as though she and the Ministry were their _salvation_ , to even _try_ defending Quirrel after what he'd done in their first-year?

He started to loudly rebel against Umbridge, "Oh yeah, Quirrell was a _great_ …" when his glasses jettisoned from the bridge of his nose, crashing to the floor in a spray of broken glass. He was completely baffled, but quickly turned back to Umbridge. Before he could say anything, his chair toppled sideways and he was on the floor next to the remains of his glasses while a few of his classmates fell into giggles.

Umbridge waltzed up to him as he was getting up, a flick of her stubby wand righting the chair and reassembling his glasses. "Were you going to say something, Mr. Potter?" she asked sweetly, looking at him expectantly. Harry opened his mouth, about to take the bait, when a tuft of hair at the base of his neck received a stinging yank. He looked around instinctively while rubbing the spot, meeting Jake's stare at the back of the room. The dragon simply gave him a single, slow shake of his large head.

"…er, no, Professor," he answered, the initial spontaneous rage ebbing as Harry turned to face her and sank back into his seat.

Umbridge eyed the scarred hand that Harry had been rubbing his neck with, a look of immense satisfaction lighting up her powdered face. "There will be no more disruptions. Continue reading until class is dismissed," she instructed, returning to her cozy little desk at the front of the room. Harry chanced a look back at Jake, who was smiling at Lao Shi until he saw Harry watching. He shook a single clawed finger as if to say _now now_ before opening his hand and twisting it around, Harry's head snapping back down to his book while Hermione snorted softly next to him.

"Honestly, Harry, you should be thanking him," Hermione laughed, thinking back to the flying chair as they left the room at the end of the period and headed down the stairs. "You would have gotten another week's detention for sure if Jake hadn't stopped you."

Harry just rolled his eyes as they entered the Great Hall for dinner, getting stopped by a furious Angelina Johnson before they could make it to their table.

" _Potter!_ " she shouted as soon as they entered. Harry had to fight the urge to grab Ron and sprint right out of the hall as she neared. "What's this I hear about you causing trouble with Umbridge?"

"I didn't do a thing!" Harry shot back defensively, "No detention, no points, nothing!" Johnson didn't believe a word of it and turned her deadly stare to Ron, who had already been quivering to begin with.

"Well I mean, he _almost_ got into an argument with her, but Jake stopped him so nothing happened, really…" he mumbled, now shying from Harry's own glare of _traitor_.

Johnson was her furious self again, wheeling back to Harry. "Potter, _get a grip_. The last thing we need is to have our Seeker stuck in another week of detention, and the dragons aren't always going to be there to rescue you!"

Harry flinched at that, thinking back to Fred's broken body in the Hospital Wing. Johnson realized what she'd said and immediately backpedaled, "That's not what I meant, and I wasn't talking about… _Fred_ ," she finished with wide eyes looking over Harry's shoulder.

The Great Hall had mostly filled by this point and the students were eagerly awaiting their meal when the procession of dragons had entered. Fred was at the front, his cloak undone to reveal his wings bound with gauze around his torso, his left arm in a sling, and his left leg wrapped in thick bandages. He hobbled in with a crutch stuck beneath his left arm and Jake and Haley off to his sides gently supporting him, the three Dragon Masters following close behind. The entire hall had quickly grown still at their entrance, everyone training their eyes on the struggling dragon.

Though Harry wasn't sure if dragons could blush, Fred still managed to shrivel a bit at the overbearing attention and quickly motioned for the others to help him down the aisle to an empty table. They hadn't made it two steps before Professor Dumbledore stood at the head table, his chair scraping against the stone floor. Fred paused as the old wizard watched him with twinkling eyes and slowly began clapping his hands, the sound booming out into the profound silence. Professor McGonagall instantly joined, along with everyone on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Before long the entire hall had erupted into cheers and shouts, the combined applause actually shaking the window panes around them.

Jake looked ecstatic, though Harry could see Fred was uncertain behind his toothy grin. Everyone present had seen his incredible act of sacrifice for the sake of a wizard he barely knew, and they weren't about to let him forget about it any time soon. The dragons eventually found their seats amidst the crowd just as the food appeared on their plates. The meal continued like normal, Harry laughing at the site of the Hufflepuffs near the dragons all clustering as close as they could to talk to Fred, who was proudly displaying a small golden ball he'd pulled out of his loose cloak.

Harry decided it was probably the only Snitch he was glad he hadn't caught.


	13. Just an Idea

The first thing that came to Jake's mind when the Umbridge woman walked into their Transfiguration class was how to interrupt Potter's eventual outburst before he landed himself in more detentions with the little crone. What he hadn't predicted was Professor McGonagall's retaliation to her usual comments and obvious questions. It only took a few short responses from the Head of Gryffindor House to set the pink toad in her place, scribbling furiously on her clipboard in the corner of the room opposite from the dragons.

McGonagall set the students about trying to vanish their mice and was walking around making observations when she passed near the dragons. She stopped midstride and looked in their direction, a thought seeming to cross her mind. Lao Shi had been describing the details of their own method of "vanishing" objects when McGonagall approached them, the two of them immediately giving her their full attention. It was the first time one of the professors had paused during their lesson to converse with them, and frankly it was quite surprising.

"I never did properly thank you all for Saturday," she said to them softly, trying not to draw attention toward them.

The two dragons looked to each other, a bit confused, when Jake answered, "Well it's really Fred you should be thanking, I mean he was the one that saved Harry…"

"I was referring to the practice they all gained when you humored them with a Quidditch match," McGonagall clarified. "I can assure you, they haven't given a game that much effort in quite some time." Before the dragons could think of a response, she continued, "I was hoping, if it's not too much to ask, that you could show me your technique that removed the window panes at the First Feast last week."

Jake turned to his master, asking, "What do you think, G?"

"We are here to share our hearts and minds," he referenced his original response at the First Feast Ceremony. He reached into his cloak and removed a toy ball that they frequently used for their manipulation exercises and held it in an outstretched palm. He waved his hand over it once with the ball fading to nothingness, only empty air remaining. Another wave of his hand and the ball had reappeared in his clawed fingers untouched, as though it had never left.

McGonagall had watched intently and seemed supremely satisfied by the demonstration. "And do you have an incantation that you recite, either verbally or silently?"

"No, our use of Old Magic is not based on a language component like your spells," Lao Shi explained.

"Indeed," she mused, "And could you perform the same 'vanishing' on a live creature like we are practicing today?"

Lao Shi looked unsure of how to answer, eventually admitting, "I've never attempted it. I suppose we've always believed it too dangerous, or rather just unnecessary, to use on a living creature, but I see no reason that it could not work." He looked at the box on the professor's desk and manipulated a single mouse out of it, floating it across the room into his waiting hand. Some of the students had been drawn to the flying, squealing little thing and watched with interest as the blue dragon first hovered his spare hand over the mouse, eyes closed in deep focus. After a moment, he waved his hand over the rodent, which seemed to have little effect. Lao Shi wasn't surprised and again gathered himself and attempted the technique, this time the mouse fading out of existence in a second.

"It would appear that the vanishing can be done, however…" Lao Shi seemed to be trying to touch something in front of him, gently moving his claws through the empty air and making probing motions, "…I am not certain that returning the creature is possible." He continued searching for a few more minutes before resigning and lowering his hand. "I apologize, Professor McGonagall, but I am afraid you are now short one mouse."

If she cared remotely about the loss, she did an excellent job of hiding it. "Not a problem at all. Thank you for sharing your skill; it has given me much to think on." She turned and continued her rounds amongst the students, most of which had been watching their exchange and quickly returned to their still very present mice. Lao Shi retrieved the ball once again and handed it to his grandson, who began tossing and twirling it in the air with a single extended claw.

"No, young dragon, I think you've practiced free movement of objects enough. It's time you learned to remove them instead, as I just demonstrated." Jake gave a reaction of exasperated dread, earning a scold from his Dragon Master. "Again, the beginning to any use of magic is to find your intent in using it, in this case your desire to make the object disappear."

Jake heard a little huff of frustration from Umbridge in the far corner, who still looked quite peeved about her inspection so far.

_Now there's something I'd like to make disappear_ , he thought.

* * *

Despite the diagrams of kneazles that Hermione was waving in his face, Harry kept his eyes trained on Dolores Umbridge, who had been walking around to the students in their Care of Magical Creatures class and asking them each questions about various creatures, gauging their knowledge on the subject. Thankfully, no one had made a fool of themselves yet, reassuring Harry that Hagrid's lessons, while impractical, were at least doing their job.

Umbridge had finished with Dean and walked past the two dragons, which stood a bit away near the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. Jake was still holding a little blue ball and swiping his claws over its surface, looking more and more annoyed as it stubbornly refused to leave his hand. Lao Shi's ability to vanish a mouse on his second try had amazed them all, especially Hermione, yet Harry could tell the feat still remained very difficult as he smiled at the steam rising between Jake's clenched teeth.

"Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?" Harry twitched at just hearing her voice, though her words in particular helped him find his familiar scowl. Umbridge was addressing Goyle, however Malfoy had overheard and quickly rose to put in his two knuts at Hagrid's expense.

"That was me, I was slashed by a hippogriff," he boasted, as though he were a war hero flashing scars earned in some courageous battle. The High Inquisitor looked incredulous and scribbled notes furiously. The scratches set Harry's teeth on edge and he shook off the hand Ron had latched onto his shoulder the moment he'd taken a step toward the group of Slytherins.

"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," Harry accused, ignoring the exasperated groans of Ron and Hermione behind him. Though Harry couldn't see him, Jake had just overheard and promptly dropped his head into his heads, realizing he was too late to save the loud mouth Gryffindor.

Umbridge looked at him slowly, her satisfied smile spreading all the while. "I thought you'd learned your lesson, Mr. Potter. Hopefully detention tonight in my office will help reinforce it." She gave a last nauseating giggle before bidding farewell to Professor Grubbly-Plank. Harry turned away from the laughing Slytherins and gathered his belongings before stomping off toward the greenhouses as the class ended. Ron and Hermione had to hurry to catch up to him, trying their best to get his attention but receiving only silence in return.

Herbology passed quickly (Jake thankfully keeping a much better cool than the previous week), and the trio were heading up to the Great Hall to grab dinner, their long night of homework weighing heavy on their minds. Harry, however, also had another session of 'writing lines' with Umbridge to look forward to, and it was clear he wasn't entirely pleased by it as he snatched his food and refused to acknowledge either of his friends sitting across from him.

"At least we don't have Quidditch practice tonight, or Johnson might've sent you to the infirmary," Ron joked lightly, though it seemed to do little in the way of cheering up Harry.

"And it's only one night," Hermione added, "but honestly, Harry, you're only giving her the satisfaction of forcing detention on you, there's no _point_ to retaliating like this…"

"Yes, Hermione, there is a point," he interrupted, not at all in the mood for a lecture from her. His voice was steadily getting louder as he continued, "Hagrid's our friend, unless you've forgotten he exists like everyone else, and I'm not about to…"

" _Bro_ ," Jake soothed, clapping a large hand onto his shoulder as he took the seat next to him, "you've really gotta chill. You know we all hate toad-face just as much as you." He started piling food on his own plate, adding, "Sorry, by the way. I wasn't paying attention and didn't notice Umbridge until it was too late. Otherwise I would've tripped you, or maybe given you a wedgie…" Harry's eyes flashed dangerously, Jake understanding his poor humor hadn't been well received. "Yo, I've only been trying to help keep you out of her office…"

"Well, I didn't ask for your 'help', and I don't need it. Just _stay away from me_ ," Harry huffed, immediately standing and heading for the entrance doors. He didn't look back at the table he'd left and didn't really care what the others thought. It was almost time for his detention to begin, so he quickened his pace until he was standing outside the door to the hag's lair, waiting until the last moment to knock. The following _"Come in"_ immediately filled him with dread at what was likely to be another bloody, painful night.

* * *

"Tch, so much for Quidditch, that boy's trippin' hard…" Jake sneered, his dinner becoming much less appetizing after Harry's storm off. Hermione and Ron seemed less surprised and more exhausted than anything.

"Don't mind him, he's just being a git," Ron sighed, shaking his head slightly as he finished the meal in front of him. He grabbed his bag and looked to Hermione expectantly.

"Go on without me, I want to stay for a bit longer. I'll meet you back at the common room," she instructed. Ron shrugged and waved goodbye to them before leaving the hall. Hermione watched him leave before heaving another sigh, rubbing the side of her head as though staving off a migraine.

"Same here," Jake said, taking a swig from his cup. Hermione gave a short laugh, looking now more bewildered than annoyed.

"I just wish he'd see sense," Hermione pleaded. Jake didn't need a name to know she was talking about Harry. "Why he's wasting so much energy on Umbridge is beyond me, he's acting like a _child_."

"You know him better than I do," Jake reminded her. "I probably sound like a broken record, but it's been a tough few months for him."

"I know," Hermione responded, fed up with the excuse at this point, "but still…ugh, this is going to make convincing him that much harder…"

"Convincing him of what?" Jake asked. Hermione bit her lip, frustrated that she'd apparently said something she rather wished she hadn't.

"Well…" she hesitated

" _Mmm-hmm_?" Jake prodded, resting his head on his arms over the table, giving Hermione a look of deep, wide-eyed interest and knocking aside most of the plates and dishes away from him noisily in the process. She rolled her eyes in turn, smiling at his act.

"Well I was thinking that…that since Umbridge isn't teaching us how to defend ourselves, we should…well, find someone who will," she said carefully, dancing around what must have been a sensitive topic.

"That's a sick idea!" Jake complimented. "I'd be down for replacing Umbridge."

"Not _replace_ her," Hermione corrected. "She's in with the Ministry, she won't be going anywhere. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a club, or society."

Jake considered that, slightly less excited knowing that Umbridge wouldn't be thrown out of the castle, ideally at least from the third floor. "And who did you have in mind to be the teacher? McGonagall? Flitwick?"

Hermione shook her head once again. "None of the professors would ever agree to it, mostly because Umbridge would never allow it. The Ministry thinks Dumbledore's trying to raise an _army_." Jake cocked an eyebrow at that. "I'm not lying!" Hermione said defensively. "Regardless, I was thinking about one of the students teaching us, someone with experience in using defensive magic. Someone like…well…like Harry," she finished, her cheeks turning slightly pink as she looked away from the dragon in front of her.

Jake didn't think the idea ridiculous, as Hermione had suspected, but he wasn't convinced either. "I don't know, Hermione, not to crash your party but Harry isn't exactly the most…er…stable person in the world right now. Not to mention he might be the most unpopular Gryffindor in the school…" Hermione looked saddened at his answer, knowing deep down what he said was true. Jake kicked himself for crushing her ambitions, however, and continued, "But you know, he did win that tournament last year, and he's kicked that Volde-whatever's butt, what, twenty times now?"

"Precisely!" Hermione agreed excitedly. "Harry's the most experienced student in Hogwarts when it comes to fighting You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters." The fervor that had suddenly filled her ebbed just as quickly while she looked around and noticed that they were now almost alone in the Great Hall. She started to gather her things and Jake stood to leave as well. "It was just a thought, though, probably a stupid one…" she mumbled as they left.

"Talk to Harry and Ron about it," Jake said. "And Hermione?" She took her disheartened glance off of the floor to look Jake in the eyes. "I don't think it's a stupid idea."

She gave him a genuine smile and he returned it before unknotting his cloak and flying out through the open doors to the grounds. He hadn't known exactly what to say, and he was surprised that he felt so eager to make her happy. Bringing some joy to her, no matter how fleeting, had given Jake immense satisfaction, an engulfing feeling that he hadn't felt in years. Not since…

He shook his head violently in the air. He'd managed to avoid that train of thought for quite some time now and he was somewhat disappointed in himself for almost bringing back those memories. His old crush was living her life a world away from him. She was probably happy and content with her own family and friends, in a world that didn't have room for Jake. He had to remind himself that his held no room for her either, which helped him to bury her deep down into the recesses of his mind, dragging his attention back to this new 'defense club' that Hermione was planning.

Lao Shi caught him as he entered their meeting chamber, seeing that Jake was lost in his thoughts. "Ready for your afternoon lessons, young one?"

Jake didn't immediately register his grandfather's question and had to shake himself awake before answering, "Sorry gramps, what's up?"

Lao Shi tilted his head with an upturned eyebrow. "A lot on your mind, I see?"

Jake chuckled lightly, his thoughts trailing back to Hermione once more. "G, you have no idea."


	14. My Dear, There is Nothing 'Out There'

"Hogsmeade?" Jake asked, confused. "Yo, you're gonna want to meet up more than once a month, Hermione. How is Hogsmeade gonna work?"

"It's only the _first_ meeting, Jake," Hermione explained. "We'll figure out something more practical, but first we need to get everyone acquainted and the…terms…of our group established." She fidgeted with her bag nervously before turning back to Jake. "So, what do you think? Will you be able to make it?"

Jake remained concerned. "But why do you want me there? You know I can't actually go to these lessons…"

"I know!" she jumped in, "But if you're there, maybe the others will take it more seriously. It's like you said, everyone's still unsure about Harry being the instructor, but having you there might help them feel more secure, or…"

Jake choked on the toast he'd been eating, attracting worried glances from the few students around them. It was very early in the morning, and the Great Hall was still mostly empty but for the few early risers. Jake swallowed the bread and gulped down a mouthful of water before rounding rather loudly back on Hermione. "A fire breathing, talking dragon is going to make them feel safer?"

She gave him a strange look, searching his eyes for something to better understand what he'd just said. Her sudden scrutiny made him think he'd just slipped somehow and he was growing increasingly nervous before she huffed and admitted, "Fine, most of them are just interested in getting to know you. It's taken almost a month, but everyone else is starting to understand that you're approachable."

"Say what?…" Jake said unbelieving, thinking about the past couple of weeks and trying to remember evidence of Hermione's excuse. The gossip and whispers had died down a bit, sure, and he'd become comfortable enough to get a little back into his old routine of clowning around in the classroom. He'd shouted in joy when he'd finally managed to make his toy ball vanish the previous week, earning a stern look from McGonagall, and making objects move discreetly through the room had become a fun pastime. Harry had somehow been able to control himself since the incident at Care of Magical Creatures (probably to avoid giving Jake an excuse to 'help' him, a theory supported by his continued despondent behavior towards the dragon), so Jake had to find other targets for his manipulation practice. This had the added benefit of usually creating mild entertainment for the students that happened to notice. And now that he thought about it, a couple of the regular Gryffindors that were in the same year as Hermione, Ron, and Harry had even begun to give him nods or waves when they saw him. Of course, he had no idea who they were, which made him feel a bit guilty, but the attention had been nice considering it didn't involve terrified stares or blatant insults.

"I also may have already mentioned that you'd be there to try and convince a couple people…" Hermione admitted, accepting the glare of betrayal from the red dragon.

"You manipulative little…" he sneered, not sure whether he was more offended or impressed. "Fine, I'll see what I can do, but no promises."

Hermione flashed him her usual smile at the news and briskly left the Great Hall. Jake watched her leave, flinching as a voice next to him said, "Watcha up to, Jakeroo?"

Jake's knees caught under the table as he tried to jump to his feet, his momentum throwing him backwards to the floor. Nerk stood over him laughing and helped pick him up from the ground. His bandages were long gone and his fluid movements left no impression that he'd ever been so dramatically injured. "Looks like your boyfriend Potter's got some competition, eh?" Nerk joked, nudging Jake's shoulder with his elbow and bouncing his eyebrows suggestively. Jake flicked his tongue in annoyance at Nerk and headed for the door, the yellow dragon hot on his heels.

"C'mon, mate, there's nothing wrong with having the hots for her, she's cute!" Nerk shouted after him as they flew through the air back to their cave. The Australian Dragon's yapping head looked just like a garbling Bludger, Jake thought, and he made a mental note to ask Ron later if he had any extra Beater's bats lying around.

* * *

"Where are we going anyway, The Three Broomsticks?" Harry asked as they approached Hogsmeade. The day was cloudy, the wind nipping at their faces with the coming cold of autumn. Hermione seemed distracted, looking at the road in front and behind them, examining the clouds that lazily drifted above.

"Oh no, it's much too popular and I thought that we could do with more secrecy, so I told the others to meet us at the Hog's Head farther up the road." Harry and Ron shot her worried looks. Neither of them had personally entered the establishment before but the rumors surrounding the place weren't all that pleasant.

They'd entered the village and the flood of students and townspeople soon swallowed them. Amidst the sea of black cloaks, Harry could see the tall, flame-topped figures of Fred and George entering Zonko's joke shop with an ecstatic yellow dragon joining them. A couple of their masters perused through the windows while watching the students throng about the crowd. Luna was waltzing out of Honeyduke's with Haley trailing behind, her hands gripping a licorice wand and a couple pumpkin pasties. Standing like a pillar jutting from the waves beneath her, Professor McGonagall observed from the center of the street, her eyes squinted tight with focus and her face set in a stoic stony expression.

They soon found the side street to their meeting place, Harry not all too surprised to see the red cloaked dragon leaning against the storefront next to the entrance. For once, they managed to get the jump on him as he recoiled at suddenly noticing the trio standing next to him.

"You made it," Hermione greeted him warmly, not failing to notice his glances back at the streets around him. "Something the matter?"

"No, not yet," he yielded, finally returning her smile. "Just got this crazy bad feeling is all, but the only crazy thing here's probably just me," he said with a small laugh.

"McGonagall didn't seem too happy either," Ron commented. Jake again looked up to the sky, but seeing nothing other than the gloomy canopy above he turned back to their group.

"This place is a dump, by the way," he laughed, jabbing a finger in the direction of the pub he was leaning against. "I think I threw up a little when the smell hit me."

"Well this shouldn't take too long, everyone will just have to deal with it," she dismissed opening the door to let Harry and Ron in. She turned back to Jake, "Care to join us?"

"Maybe in a bit," he said. "I'll stay here and be your lookout, wouldn't want any Slytherin cronies crashing our little party after all." Hermione considered arguing but after a moment she conceded and walked in to join Harry and Ron at the far table they'd occupied, three butterbeers already resting on its grimy surface. Ron was watching the bandaged man sitting at the bar counter with interest, Hermione noticing the two other men sitting at a booth a ways away from them and a completely veiled witched huddled up by the fireplace. The barman shot her an uncertain look but she ignored him and turned to Harry, who was now fidgeting very noticeably.

"How many people did you say were coming again, Hermione?" he asked, looking out the windows every other second even though Jake remained the only thing in sight.

"I didn't," she answered, cracking open her butterbeer and taking a calming sip, "and I'm sure they'll be here soon."

Harry really didn't have much choice in the matter and simply passed what time he could by scratching the dirt caked onto the side of his bottle. Soon, a door began creaking open, followed by a sudden gust of wind.

"Bloody Hell, they're here…" Ron mumbled. Harry lifted his eyes at their guests, a single urge growing dangerously large as the crowd of students continued to swell well beyond anything he'd anticipated.

_I'm gonna kill Hermione…_

* * *

Something was off, he could feel it, but all Jake could see was the dingy street of Hogsmeade that he stood in. The cobblestones beneath him were worn and dirty, the brick and wood walls of the buildings sporting equally attractive stains and grime. The wind blew briskly and clouds kept the air chilled and gloomy, but none of this would explain why his hair was standing on end or the way his stomach was clenching into knots.

A cough to his left made him snap his head around, rounding on the source. A fifth-year Gryffindor with a round face and droopy eyes that Jake had often seen with the others jumped backwards at the dragon's glare, bumping into another boy and girl behind him that Jake also recognized as fifth-year Gryffindors. Realizing he'd just snapped at harmless students, Jake quickly straightened with a cough and ran his hand through his hair in embarrassment.

"Yo, uh, sorry that was…my bad…" he gave a weak laugh, his exposed teeth doing little to diffuse the tension. "They're already waiting inside, by the way," he added after they seemed to have forgotten where they were going and instead continued to stand still and stare at him. The boy he'd snapped at gave a stiff nod and ducked in through the door, the other two behind him quickly following suit. Another group of students that had also begun walking down the road had seen them enter and walked briskly through the door, only sparing passing looks at Jake as they disappeared into the dimly lit pub. The groups just kept coming and so many young wizards from different houses slipped into their meeting place that Jake began to wonder if there'd even be enough room in the rather small building. He'd recognized the twins as they passed with another friend, as well as Luna, yet neither Haley nor Nerk were with them. Jake guessed that they must have ditched the dragons just to be safe. Soon, the students stopped arriving and after a few minutes they must have decided to begin their meeting as everyone inside quieted down to listen to Hermione. Jake tilted his head closer to the window and tried to listen in while keeping a steady focus on the road outside.

"Well, um, hi everyone," she greeted them all nervously, the circle of seated students not reacting in the slightest. Seeing her struggle with her introductions made Jake cringe a little, but she soon found her groove and, after getting a good reaction from throwing a jibe at Umbridge, finally got to the point. "Since no one can call the rubbish Umbridge teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, I thought we should…take matters into our own hands."

Jake snapped his head back to the street. Something, what looked like a flicker of movement, had grabbed his attention, but once again the alley remained empty but for him and the breeze. An unshakeable feeling, almost like an itch, still lingered beneath his skin and the sensation was truly beginning to drive him mad. A soft ruffling sound above him drew his focus to the sight of a serpentine blue dragon landing beside him. Now he was feeling a different kind of panic, considering the last thing he wanted was for his grandfather to think he was associated with the pseudo-student uprising occurring within the Hog's Head.

"Jake, what are you doing?" Lao Shi asked, confused as to why his student was just standing alone outside a rundown bar. He kept his eyes searching around the two of them, but what he was looking for Jake wasn't certain.

"Listen, G, I can totally explain…" Jake started.

Lao Shi quickly shook his head, muttering, "Nevermind, it does not matter." His eyes looked through the windows and found the sizeable group of students within. "Jake, I need you to stay here and keep an eye on this group, do _not_ let them out of your sight," he instructed his student, every word weighed heavily with absolute seriousness.

His Dragon Master's tone unnerved Jake. "Yo, G, what's up? Is something going down? I've had a bad feeling all day, but I haven't seen anything…"

"You are not alone, young one," Lao Shi confided, "and I also have found nothing out of the ordinary. A sensation like this, however, is _never_ a good sign. Be on your guard, I must check on the others and inform the professors of our suspicions." He placed a hand on one of Jake's shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye, unflinching. "Remember, Jake, the students are our top priority." His grandfather quickly turned and launched back into the air, vanishing beyond the rooftops that surrounded the red dragon.

Jake surveyed the alley once more and, after convincing himself that he was once again alone, silently hoped that their foreboding premonitions truly were nothing more than paranoia.

"Look, I…I'm not trying to be modest or anything…" Harry's voice called from within the pub. Jake turned his head back towards the glass paned window as Harry continued, "…but I had a lot of help with all of that stuff, with everything…" Jake had lost what direction their discussion had taken, but listened as the room of students quickly rose to deny Harry's self-deprecating excuses. It really was heartening to hear them all praise his accomplishments when not a month before they'd all been calling him insane, both behind and in front of his back.

Hermione eventually refocused the conversation, "Yes, _the point is_ , can we all agree to have Harry lead these lessons?" The students were all generally approving when another movement threw Jake into a defensive stance. To his growing frustration, the street still appeared to be vacant. Once was plausible, but seeing things that weren't there twice in a row? He would readily admit that he indulged in day dreams more often than was healthy, but Jake never hallucinated to this extreme.

He undid his cloak, allowing the fabric to shrink and rest against his back, and slowly sidestepped to stand directly in front of the pub's entrance. He did his best to not seem alarmed, for the sake of the students inside and just in case he actually was going crazy, but he kept his arms tensed at his sides. The sky looked frozen, a constant flat plane of uniform grey, yet Jake could swear that the entire street was steadily getting darker.

Reflex taking hold, Jake ducked just as a black figure took a swing at his head. Still crouching, Jake turned to see his assailant and was filled with intense confusion. He swung his body around and his tail collided with the torso of the creature, forcing it to dissipate into an amorphous cloud of black smoke.

"There's no way…" Jake muttered before a powerful blow caught him in the back between his wings. Another black shape stood on top of him, its foot pressing on his shoulder blades and pinning him to the ground. The red dragon pulled its right arm and leg in close and propped them against the wall of the pub next to him. With a tremendous heave, he pushed himself into a roll and threw the shadow to the ground where he was trapped seconds before and quickly rose to his feet. Not giving it a chance to recover, Jake leapt forward and threw a punch at its face, his fist flowing through it as the figure disappeared.

Turning behind him he saw three more of the shades forming out of the shadows across the street, taking on their dragon-like appearances. He breathed in as deeply as possible and unleashed a sweeping, relentless torrent of flame at the apparitions, the overwhelming heat and blinding light combined melting them away into mere wisps. Embers continued to burn and lick at spots of wood on the buildings opposite him, but the street was once again empty for the time being. Jake quickly turned back to the pub and rushed through the door, surveying the room inside and sighing in relief at the lack of violent, reptilian shadows.

"Y'all okay?" he asked the group of stunned young witches and wizards.

"Well of course we are," one of the twins responded, the other finishing, "They couldn't even make it to the door with you in the way, could they?"

"What about you, Jake?" Hermione asked seriously, walking up to him and looking him over for any injuries. He stiffened at her attention and took a step back as she approached him.

"I'm fine, Hermione, for real," he said, waving his hands to try and disengage her.

She cast a look outside at the charred street before turning back to him asking, "Do you know what those… _things_ …were? I've never seen them before…"

Jake was about to tell her about the shades, the horror inside of him growing with what their presence implied, but he was cut short by shouts and screams coming from the village outside.

"The others…" he gasped. His grandfather's instructions had been clear, but the cries of terror clawed at the walls of his mind. He struggled for several moments, turning from the windows to the students then back to the windows repeatedly, muttering "Uhh…uhh…aw _man,_ " before he finally turned back to the group of students, his course of action decided. "No one leaves until I get back, I need to go help out there," he said swiftly, now turning his attention to Hermione, Ron, and Harry specifically, "and if those things show up, they hate anything bright. Fire, light, whatever you can find, but _don't leave the pub_." Jake turned on his heels and left the room, taking flight once outside and trying to see exactly what was going on.

The tight streets of Hogsmeade were still as busy as when he'd arrived, though now the bustling market atmosphere had been lost beneath the sounds of ferocious fighting. Students and residents were all flocking toward the dirt road that lead back to Hogwarts, the streets behind them barricaded by wizards and dragons alike. The cracks of spells and roars of fire echoed off of the buildings as those capable of fighting guarded the civilians' retreat. Lao Shi was battling next to McGonagall on the main road against a wave of shades, Fred and Dominic were each escorting groups of innocents along side streets, and Sun was assisting the professors in guiding everyone towards the school. The one thing that concerned Jake was that he couldn't seem to find…

A cross between a furious roar and a cry of pain sounded from the slums of the village behind Jake. _Haley_ , he thought as he sped in the direction of her voice. He cleared a row of crooked rooftops and saw her in a small clearing, backed into a corner between the ruins of two decrepit homes. She stood with her arms and wings spread defensively, shielding a group of shaking students that couldn't have been older than second-years from the dozen shades that were slowly approaching them. The scarred walls and burning grass were a testament to the pink dragon's efforts, but her heavy panting and shaking limbs betrayed her exhaustion. Despite Haley's obvious fatigue, her eyes still burned with protective fury, quickly moving between all of her targets until they fell upon the greatest sight she could have hoped for at that moment.

" _Jake!_ " she yelled, relief giving her renewed strength. A shadow to her far right took advantage of the distraction, leaping forward and clawing at her side. Haley gasped in pain at the fresh cuts before aiming a well place jab at the figure's chest, forcing it back into trickling smoke. She kicked another shade that had leapt towards the students, but the others were now quickly closing the distance between them and the dragon. Haley could never stop them all and instead folded the children into her arms and wings, a pink, scaled shield against the coming wave of darkness.

A hurtling fireball exploded mere feet from her, landing amidst the vanguard of the shadows and instantly removing several of their forms. "No one beats up on the Am-Drag's little sis but _me_ ," Jake snarled as he landed on the embers of his last attack, flaring out his wings and blocking the crouched dragon behind him from the view of the monsters. "Hales, get back to the others and head for the school, I'll take care of these _losers_ ," he shouted, not daring to turn back to her and remove his gaze from the malicious creatures before him.

He heard her hastily whispering instructions before their group escaped up the nearest road and back towards the main courtyard. Jake slowly backed away from the army of shadows and covered their retreat, throwing out another wall of fire as he backed into the narrow street they'd run down. The shadows took flight, and Jake feared for a moment that they would resume their chase for his sister before they dispersed in random directions, disappearing once more into the murky alleys. He turned to see Haley and her group nearly back onto the main road, a wave of comfort washing over him. He soared into the skies and flew as quickly as he could back to his own charges, thankful that the Hog's Head appeared untouched as he landed in the familiar side street and entered the pub.

* * *

Harry couldn't believe it. Hermione had asked the question this had all been leading up to: would any of them let him teach them Defense Against the Dark Arts? He didn't know many of the students in front of him, and they in turn looked untrusting of Harry, yet they all had agreed with nodding heads and whispered approvals. Harry's head was swimming, as light as if it had just released its own flotation device and began to reach for the ceiling, a weight that he'd forgotten had been lingering over him finally lifting. Hermione seemed to accept their unanimous decision and lead the discussion towards the details of their classes, but Harry was distracted by the scene outside the windows.

Jake was releasing his cloak, and Harry thought that maybe the dragon had grown bored and decided to visit some other part of the town. He was instead filled with suspicion as Jake sidled over slowly to stand directly in front of the entrance to the pub, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his eyes darting back and forth along the street outside.

"After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army of helio…" Luna rambled until she paused to stare at Harry, who had just shot out of his chair and onto his feet. A dark shape, blurred by the opaque windows, stood next to the red dragon outside and had taken a swing at his head, Jake luckily ducking the blow. He in turn countered with a sharp blow to its stomach, the shape then _evaporating_ into thin air. Without pause, another attacked Jake and had him pinned to the ground, but the dragon again managed to escape and destroy his attacker. Harry now stood at the edge of the windows with his wand in hand, the others joining with muttered gasps and squeals as more assailants appeared to attack Jake, only to be swallowed by his billowing flames.

The students were speechless, filled to the brim with confusion and fear. The dragon rushed through the door of the pub and found the students, calling to them, "Y'all okay?" The twins gawped at him and calmed his concerns, Hermione turning the question back onto the dragon. Jake seemed guarded against her, but distant sounds from the village drew his attention. "The others…" he whispered before turning back to the students, forbidding them from leaving the pub and telling Harry, Ron, and Hermione the weakness of the creatures: _light_. It seemed too simple, but Jake had already left and flown away before they could probe any further. The silence following his departure was punctuated by the growing sounds of battle from beyond the walls of the Hog's Head.

Harry gripped his wand tightly before deciding to follow Jake and do what he could to help. He was nearly at the door before Hermione ensnared his wrist in her iron grip, reprimanding him, " _No_ , Harry, you heard what he said, we need to stay here." She looked back at the members of their new defense group, most of whom were watching Harry, before whirling back to him. "If Jake doesn't make it back before those _things_ do, we'll need to defend ourselves. We can't do that without you, Harry," she finished, her voice begging him, just this once, to listen to her advice. Harry looked away from her imploring gaze and back at the terrified students, reminding himself that it was his and Hermione's fault that they were there in the first place. They were his responsibility, and he couldn't abandon them to fend for themselves in this pub, even if there were five adult wizards in the room that could hopefully hold their own.

"Fine," he said, giving Hermione a curt nod. "You're right…we'll wait for Jake," he agreed. He was going through his mind, thinking of all the spells he knew of that could create light, while Hermione did her best to calm the others and form a contingency plan in case the red dragon didn't return soon. Guilt stirred within Harry as he listened, the possibility of Jake succumbing to the dark creatures filling him with dread. He wanted to be out there, fighting alongside him, not playing the damsel in need of rescue. He hadn't even been kind to the dragon, Harry shamefully admitted, thinking back to the past weeks since his outburst after their Care of Magical Creatures class. Despite his stony silence toward him, Jake was still wildly defending him, protecting them all. Now, all Harry could do was hope that Hermione's plans proved unnecessary, that he would have the chance to make it up to Jake…

A soft _thud_ sounded from outside, its owner hurrying through the door once again. Jake looked tired but otherwise unharmed as he called out to the room, "Fieldtrip's over, y'all, we're ditchin' this place." No one moved at first, earning an irritated follow up from Jake, " _Yo, we're kind of in a hurry here!_ "

The two wizards that had been huddled in their booth quickly dashed out the door, followed by the veiled witch, the bandaged fellow, the barman, and finally the body of students. Hermione and Ron led the end of the trail of black robes, Hermione giving Jake a smile as they passed. Harry hesitated before leaving, looking up to Jake and starting, "Listen, Jake, I…"

"We so don't have time, Potter," he interrupted, shoving Harry out through the door to follow after the now running group of students. Given little choice in the matter, he chased after the rest of the group ahead through the small side street with Jake at his side. Whatever shouts and screams had filled the air before the dragon had left the Hog's Head had disappeared, Harry hearing only the sounds of their running feet and ragged breath echoing off of the buildings. They rounded the corner onto the main street, the last remnants of the evacuating populace escaping through the wooded path in the distance that lead out of the village and towards the school. Professor McGonagall and a few of the other dragons stood at the edge of the village, anxiously guiding the last group towards them.

The shades that had been ominously absent burst out from the alleys and crevices between the shops, diving towards the students and forcing them to the ground covering their heads with their arms. Jake immediately joined the fray, chasing after the shadows and defeating them with a flurry of punches, kicks, and slams, though there were far too many for him alone.

" _Lumos Maxima_!" Harry shouted, his wand pointed over the body of students at the swirling cloud of black dragons. A blinding ball of light shot forth and hovered above them, repelling many of the creatures away and forcing them to the ground. Still they approached on foot in droves towards the prone students, Harry aiming his wand at the nearest one and yelling, " _Stupefy_!" A bolt of energy shot toward the figure and bored a hole through its chest, the smoke around it quickly filling in the gap. " _Diffindo_!" Gouges in the figure opened up across its torso, but once again quickly closed. " _Incarcerus_!" The ropes fell to the ground, the ghostly dragon seemingly unstoppable.

" _Incendio_!" a voice yelled. The shade instead now burst into flames, its inky material bleeding into thin clouds as it vanished. Harry looked over his shoulder, calling, "Thanks Hermione!"

" _Light_ , Harry!" she shouted back before turning to more shades that were approaching her flank. The dark creatures that had been in front of their group had been removed and the students were on their feet, making a break for the path to the castle. Harry turned back behind him to find the coming army of shades as numerous as ever, seemingly unending. He quickly set them aflame one by one, backing away from their advance and growing desperate at their relentless assault.

They were nearly upon him when a plume of flame rained down from above him, incinerating the nearest shadows and creating a wall of fire that made them cower away. Jake landed beside him and gripped his shoulder, dragging him back so that they could make their break for safety as well. The other students were secure, Harry and Jake being the last to return. As they broke into their sprint toward the dragons and professors also engaged in battle against their own droves of shadows, another wall of flame exploded in front of them, though this time not from Jake. It burned purple and black, blocking their path and leaving them trapped in the courtyard.

"We're getting out of here," Jake called, wrapping his arms around Harry and taking flight. He only made it a few feet into the air before the ball of light that Harry had produced was consumed and turned dark, the army of shades forming a blockade in the air all around them. Jake sped quickly towards their formation, hoping to break through their ranks with sheer power, but was repelled by an enormous black fireball that seemed to come from the now corrupt _Lumos_. The two hurtled to the ground, Harry rolling free of Jake's grasp as they landed. They both quickly stood and took defensive stances as the dome of shadows slowly closed in on them.

" _Well, well, well, if it isn't the American Dragon_ ," a deep voice boomed from every direction. Harry swung his head around but couldn't find the owner, seeing only the identical shades and dark, pulsing orb above. " _And you even brought the Boy-Who-Lived, how kind of you_."

"Come out here and fight me like a dragon, Dark _Chump_ , or are you too chicken?" Jake taunted the voice. A few of the shades were growing bold and attacking them individually, Harry doing his best to burn them down before they could get too close.

" _The only one hiding here is you, American Dragon_ ," the voice replied. A growl of pain made Harry spin around and see Jake struggling on one knee. He'd reached his limit and the shades were starting to get through his defenses, despite his best efforts. Another came down and Jake managed to swing an uppercut to destroy it, but couldn't respond quickly enough to stop the second coming from behind him. It raked its claws against Jake's back, but instead of carving fresh grooves into his scales it seemed to flow through him, its hand passing harmlessly into his body. The red dragon, however, roared once more in agony, dropping to both of his hands and on the verge of collapse.

Harry rushed forward to defend him, lashing out at any of the shadows that dared to venture too near. The booming voice laughed, " _Look at how_ weak _you are, needing the help of a pathetic little human_." Harry was shoved roughly aside as Jake leaped to his feet and hurled whatever flames he had left at the swirling cloud around them in utter fury. More laughter came from their unknown foe, " _Maybe the boy should see what he's_ really _protecting_." All at once the storm of shadows descended upon them. Jake rolled, dodged, and countered well until the first shadow landed a strike, the others quickly falling upon the stunned dragon and easily swarming their prey. Harry got to his feet, the sight of the endless darkness feasting on his comrade filling him with sudden inspiration. He dove into his memories, into the very center of his being, and pulled out that seed of utter bliss and unexplainable joy before taking aim at the dark storm in front of him.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ " A tidal wave of warm, white light exploded from his wand, engulfing the entire street of Hogsmeade in its wake. Most of the shades were swallowed in its embrace, dissolving into mere specks, while the few that managed to escape dove once more into the darkened alleys. The demonic voice erupted in deafening rage, its cries echoing throughout the landscape and quickly fading into nothingness as the orb above flew apart into black clouds. Jake was on his side, his body limp and his cloak flapping sadly behind him in the wind. Harry ran to help him, seeing as he neared that patches of burning flame were appearing all over Jake's body.

"Leave," the dragon grunted. Harry looked at Jake's face, seeing the panic and terror in his eyes.

Harry looked around again, seeing still that none of the creatures had returned, before answering, "We're safe, Jake, those shadow things are…"

" _Leave, please_ ," Jake gasped again, his begging tone clear even through the strain in his voice. His entire body was shaking as he groaned in strangled breaths, the flames slowly growing larger though they seemed different in some way from normal fire. " _I can't…stop it…_ " Jake choked, struggling with enormous effort, though Harry couldn't understand why the embers weren't causing him any obvious pain. Before Harry could press him, Lao Shi and Dominic were landing beside him.

"Take him, now!" Lao Shi commanded the green dragon, Dominic nodding and roughly grabbing Harry into his arms before jumping into the air. The last Harry saw of the red dragon, the flames were beginning to cover him entirely while Lao Shi stood over him, knotting Jake's cloak and allowing the fabric to slip over him. As Dominic landed amongst the rest of the civilians near the entrance to Hogwarts and the rest of their group came to check on him, Harry realized he was hopelessly lost and hadn't the slightest idea about exactly what had happened over the past half hour. For some reason, however, he had two thoughts that he couldn't help but fixate on.

The dragons were indeed keeping a crucial secret from them, and whatever had attacked Hogsmeade had one person it desired above all others: Jake, or rather, _the American Dragon_.


	15. Friends Like These

Dumbledore stepped out of the green flames, ducking below the mantle of his fireplace and lifting his eyes to survey the walls of his office. Books lined the many shelves, trinkets filled the nooks and cubbies, and pale light filtered in through the arching windows behind his desk. He walked up to the glass, looking down below and towards the direction of Hogsmeade, seeing thin tendrils of black smoke curling into the sky from the crooked buildings. A large crowd of people meandered in the entrance courtyard, just outside the grand doors of his school. Students and adults alike huddled together, the professors scattered throughout and looking over them all. A white tent had been erected in a corner of the courtyard, and he could see Madam Pomfrey handing out blankets and bandaging those with injuries while floating trays delivered warm beverages to the crowd.

All told, Dumbledore had feared worse, though he could hardly say he knew the depths of the damage. He had been meeting with Fudge concerning the residence of the Dragons of Draco Isle, the Minister insisting that they be removed after the negative fallout from the Quidditch fiasco weeks ago. Dumbledore had been attempting to explain their necessity, a difficult task considering Cornelius's refusal to accept the very real threat of Lord Voldemort, when a ghostly tabby cat had burst through the walls of Fudge's office and found the headmaster. Minerva's voice echoed from its pulsing white light.

"Hogsmeade is under attack," her voice said, devoid of emotion. Albus at least took heart in the fact that she didn't sound alarmed, but nevertheless immediately returned to Hogwarts through the Floo Network. It seemed by the time he'd arrived, the events of the afternoon had come and gone. He turned to descend his staircase when he heard the scraping of stone, the staircase rising of its own accord beyond the doors to his office. He waited patiently in front of his desk as footsteps quickly approached and in strode his Transfiguration professor.

"Thank goodness you're here, Albus," she said with relief after seeing his calm, stalwart figure.

"I came as soon as I got your Patronus," he replied, eyeing the two dragons that had now entered the room behind her. Lao Shi and Sun ducked through the door, the blue dragon carrying what looked like several of their iconic grey cloaks in a rough pile.

"Headmaster," Sun addressed him, "we have an emergency. We need to return to the Isle of Draco immediately and we're hoping you can provide us with a Portkey." Though she did her best to remain calm, Dumbledore could sense the urgency in her voice, the tone that told him by 'hoping' they truly meant 'demanding'. McGonagall seemed more interested than worried, her eyes never leaving the large bundle cradled by the blue dragon.

Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall. "Thank you for escorting them, Minerva. I can finish up here if you would be so kind as to return and help the others. I will join you shortly," he said with soothing calmness. She gave a nod and one last look at Lao Shi's curious package before gliding out of the room, the door closing shut behind her.

Dumbledore waited until the sounds of scraping stones ceased before finally responding to the two dragons. "Do either of you know who or what attacked Hogsmeade?"

"Unfortunately, yes, and that is part of the emergency," Sun conceded. "Dark creatures that took the form of dragon shaped shades assaulted the town an hour into the students' trip." She hesitated, struggling to say the impossible truth weighing heavy on her mind. "These shades are the minions of choice of the Dark Dragon."

Both of the dragons cringed at the mention of their sworn enemy, a response Dumbledore was all too familiar with when talking aloud about You-Know-Who. He grabbed a silver ball that had been resting on his desk and began to move his wand in complicated motions over its surface while approaching the dragons.

"I thought the Dark Dragon had been defeated years ago?" Dumbledore asked, coming to a stop in front of the two in the center of his office. Sun turned to look at Lao Shi, who simply returned the stare and uncomfortably shifted the pile of cloaks in his arms.

"He was sealed in an alternate dimension, along with the first Dragon Temple at Victoria Peak just outside of Hong Kong. The temple only appears once every thousand years, making his apparent escape all the more…concerning," Lao Shi explained. He looked back at Dumbledore and continued, "The Dragon Council must be informed of his return, we don't have a moment to lose."

"And the rest of this emergency?" Dumbledore pried, looking now at Sun. After she didn't respond, he added, "You said the Dark Dragon was 'part' of this emergency, so I believe it safe to assume there is more to the story?" Sun's expression turned to one of hurried thought and frustration, kicking herself for misspeaking earlier.

"Headmaster, I beg you, time is of the essence…" she implored defensively after raising her head, only to have Dumbledore turn away towards Lao Shi, movement in the fabric he carried drawing the wizard's attention. The blue dragon grew stiff, eyeing the sharp wizard in front of him with reserved guard.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, Sun now looking desperately at Lao Shi for some sort of cover or distraction, before he said, "One of your students was injured?"

Lao Shi bowed his head, his eyes closed. "How long have you known?"

"I am an old man, Lao Shi, and I have learned many things in my time. For the sake of simplicity and ensuring the success of our current arrangement, I feigned ignorance. I am sorry for that deception," he answered while walking forward to the blue dragon. He carefully lifted the lip of the topmost cloak away, revealing the pale face of an older teenage boy with Asian features and black messy hair tipped with green dye. A smile tugged at his lips as he recognized the similarities to the outspoken red dragon he'd first met months ago. "What happened?"

"The shades surrounded him and Harry Potter while they escorted the last group of students out of Hogsmeade. By the time we were able to reach them, Jake was losing consciousness, though Mr. Potter was mostly unharmed." Lao Shi's words had the slightest hint of pride when he described their efforts, though now he grew sullen and his brows furrowed together. "According to Mr. Potter, the shades had collapsed onto Jake and attacked him without causing physical harm. He was forced out of his dragon form, but we were able to remove Harry and the other witnesses before then."

"His dragon chi appears to have been greatly diminished by the Dark Dragon's minions, beyond what I alone can repair," Sun almost whispered in regret. "On the Isle of Draco, however, we can mend the damage," she finished, delicately placing her hand over Jake's unkempt hair. Dumbledore in turn reached up and rested his own hand on her shoulder, his eyes adopting their characteristic twinkling.

"I can't thank you all enough for what you've done today," he said softly, placing the silver ball in her other hand. "Do what you must. Hogwarts will wait patiently for your return." Sun smiled faintly, raising the ball to Lao Shi so that he could grip the top of it. As soon as his grasp tightened over its smooth surface, the forms of the two dragons twisted and collapsed into the point where the ball had been with a muffled _crack_.

Dumbledore turned back to the windows of his office and looked again at the crowd of refugees below. He would have to quickly send a letter to Fudge explaining what had transpired, worded as carefully as possible, before Umbridge filled his ears with her own warped perceptions. Then, he'd meet with the professors and citizens of Hogsmeade and orchestrate how they would secure the village. The news of the return of the Dark Dragon had worried him deeply, but for now he would have to focus on repairing what damage had already been done.

It would undoubtedly be a trying couple of days. "At least it's the weekend," Dumbledore sighed.

* * *

The flickering light of the fireplace scattered dancing shadows over the common room, filling it with feigned activity and life despite the fact that it was only currently occupied by three people. Harry and Ron lounged on the couch, their abandoned books and essays scattered on the table beside them, while Hermione teetered on the edge of her chair's cushion, staring intently into the fire with her arm supporting her chin. The moon shone bright through the windows, the night sky as black as ink as they neared the midnight hour. Harry had just recounted the details of his and Jake's plight earlier that day, and Ron and Hermione sat considering the story for a few moments before Hermione asked her first question.

"He told you to leave and was saying that he couldn't stop something?" she asked. Harry gave her a single nod, refusing to break eye contact with the fireplace. "And there was _fire_ appearing all over his body?" Again, a single nod. "But he didn't look pained, or agitated, just scared?"

" _Yes_ , Hermione, that's what I just said," Harry irately replied.

"I know, I know, it's just so…weird…" she mumbled.

"It's a bit more than weird," Ron chuffed.

"And Lao Shi was more concerned with having Dominic take you away than stay to help Jake…" Hermione considered aloud.

"What about the freaky voice shouting about Jake hiding and you seeing what you were really protecting?" Ron asked

"Haven't got a clue," Harry admitted. At the time, he'd been too distracted to consider the argument Jake seemed to be having with their invisible foe, but looking back on it none of their banter made a bit of sense. Remembering their conversation, another thought came to Harry. "I wonder why it kept calling Jake 'the American Dragon'."

"Maybe because he's American?" Ron absentmindedly guessed.

Harry didn't bother rolling his eyes. "So is the pink one…( _Haley_ , Hermione interrupted)…alright, _Haley_ , she has an American accent too, but the voice called him _the_ American Dragon, like he was the only one."

"Well we don't exactly know much about the dragons, now do we?" Hermione sighed, once again frustrated by her lack of answers. "We'll just have to ask him when… _if_ he comes back," she finished, dropping her eyes back to the fire. Jake, Lao Shi, and Sun had all vanished after the attack, and all Fred and Haley had said when the three had approached them had been that the two Dragon Masters had to take Jake back to the Isle of Draco, making no mention of any plans for their return, or even if there would _be_ a return for that matter. "To think they kept Fred here and his accident was _awful_. For them to take Jake…"

"Don't say that," Harry snapped. "He'll be fine…I know he will." All of this talk about Jake and his injuries made him want to retreat to his dormitory. He looked down at the piece of parchment that was now thoroughly crumpled in his hand, remembering why they were still here to begin with. Hedwig had found them hours after the attack amidst the chaos of refugees and students with a small note strapped to her leg. She seemed to be injured given a strange bend in her left wing, but Harry wasn't that surprised given the events of the day. The note had simply read _Same time, Same place_ , all of them immediately understanding the message.

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. " _Well_ , you've certainly had a change of attitude."

"Yeah, since when do you give a troll's arse about the dragons?" Ron laughed, not mocking Harry but instead as delighted as Hermione was to finally see acceptance coming out of their stubborn friend.

Harry was thankfully saved from their probing questions by sputtering flares hopping out of the fireplace. He immediately sank to his knees by the hearth, Ron and Hermione joining him as the face of his godfather materialized in the embers.

"Sirius!" Harry whispered excitedly.

"Hi," he greeted smiling at the three of them. "Busy day?"

"You don't know the half of it," Harry sighed before explaining the strange monsters that had assaulted Hogsmeade while they were at the Hog's Head, forgetting to include the reason they'd all been in the strange pub to begin with. To his credit, Sirius listened patiently without interrupting, looking troubled with thought as the flames brushed the outline of his head harmlessly.

"I am not familiar with these creatures from your description, Harry, and I know more of dark magic than I care to admit," Sirius said through a tight jaw. "You are certain they weren't dementors?"

"I know dementors when I see them, Sirius, and these definitely weren't them," Harry assured him. "Dementors are still… _there_ , you know? These things weren't, they were like smoke, or…or shadows. I tried using spells to snare them, stun them, but they barely even noticed."

"But they could still attack you?" Sirius asked.

Harry nodded, thinking back to Jake's injuries from the alley fight and the cuts and slashes on the refugees recovering in Madam Pomfrey's tent. "My Lumos held them back at first, but they took control of it somehow. Only fire managed to hurt them."

"Don't forget your Patronus was what drove them off," Ron reminded him.

"The Patronus Charm?" Sirius questioned, eyes squinted in thought. "A repelling spell that doesn't involve physical damage…that's clever thinking, Harry, but why use it against anything but dementors?" Sirius followed.

"Hermione was the one that told me light was their weakness, and the way they acted reminded me of when the dementors attacked us by the lake two years ago, so I thought I'd give it a shot," he tried to explain, realizing only now how lucky he'd been.

"Jake was really the one that told us about their weakness, though," Hermione quickly corrected, her expression again growing somber at the thought of the missing dragon. "Honestly, if it weren't for him we wouldn't have stood a chance."

"And who is Jake?" Sirius asked in confusion.

"One of the dragons, and a bloody good fighter. I reckon the bloke must have taken on at least half of those things by himself," Ron responded, making no attempt to downplay Jake's actions.

"A dragon?..." Sirius scoffed, his voice thick with disbelief. The change in tone caught them off guard, Harry feeling defensive for the creature that had likely saved their lives today.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione shot back, no doubt mirroring Harry's reaction.

Sirius seemed to realize he'd clearly misspoken, trying to recover with a chuckle and saying, "Nothing, it's just I'm not that trusting of foreign magical creatures that no one's seen in centuries…"

"You don't know anything about them, Sirius…" Harry tried to explain.

"And you do?" Sirius cut him off. "Then tell me, why did Jake know how to defeat the creatures that attacked you today?" Harry was tired of Sirius persecuting Jake, but he didn't have a good answer for his godfather and a quick look at Hermione told him she was having no more luck than he. "From what Mundungus told me, whatever was controlling them actually _spoke_ to him, is that true?"

"Well yeah, but…hey wait," Harry narrowed his eyes, "how did Mundungus know that?"

"He was at the Hog's Head watching you," Sirius quickly answered, waving off Harry's sudden concern. "Honestly, having your meeting in a place like that, what were you thinking?"

Hermione looked like she was about to argue the point when Harry intervened, "Jake talked with whoever it was, but they weren't exactly being chummy, Sirius."

"And I suppose he wouldn't even tell you who it was if you asked," the head in the flames sneered once more.

"Considering the last time we saw him he was unconscious, no, he wouldn't," Harry replied coldly. He'd waited eagerly all night to speak with Sirius, yet now he wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away from the fireplace. "Anything else?"

Harry couldn't tell if Sirius looked more taken aback by his godson's reply or the following sudden dismissal. Sirius looked sadly up at him before mumbling, "People with secrets to keep don't make for loyal company. Just be careful who you count as your friend, Harry." Then he turned sharply from the fire, his head disappearing and the flames returning to their low burn. Harry stood quickly with a sigh, feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up with him.

The fireplace spontaneously roared back to life, Sirius's head briefly appearing once more. "Oh, and Harry?" He waited until Harry grudgingly looked at him. "You'll make a great teacher." He gave one last flash of a smile with a wink before disappearing, this time the flames remaining trapped amidst the logs and ashes.

Hermione looked to Harry gently, saying as disarmingly as possible, "He's only being cautious, Harry. We all know that Jake and the other dragons…"

"But that's just it, Hermione," Harry interrupted with a sigh, turning away from the staircase in front of him to look back at Hermione. "Sirius was right, we don't know them. We barely know _anything_ about them. How can we trust anyone like that?" He couldn't think of anything else to say, deciding sleep was all he truly needed, and turned back to climb the stairs to his dormitory with Ron following behind him.

Hermione watched them ascend the stairs in defeat before turning back to the fireplace, the crackling embers returning her thoughts to the dragon she could only hope was alright on some far-off, distant island.

* * *

_Why wasn't he moving? He could see the gap ahead, steadily growing smaller with every passing second, his friends and family beckoning to him from beyond its reach._

_Time was running out. If he didn't reach the gate soon, he'd be lost in this shapeless, infinite place forever with his ultimate enemy, and worse…so would she._

_His prize clung desperately to his chest, weak and injured from her efforts to distract the dark being that lurched behind him. She, who was once their salvation, their redeemer, was now cradled helplessly in his arms. Every ounce of his strength was going into his wings, he was willing himself to fly harder, fly_ faster, _than ever before. He was her only chance, and he was desperately trying to save her, but he'd never do that if he couldn't MOVE._

_Booming laughter sounded behind him, the noise wracking his spine with fear. He turned to see the burning eyes filled with hate staring him down, the creature's massive claws gripping his foot. He hurled as much fire as he could muster, burning his own flesh along with that of the monster. The voice cried out in pain, relinquishing its hold and backing away from the firestorm._

_He flew forward immediately, charging towards their last dwindling chance at victory. The hole was closing rapidly, his comrades on the other side disappearing one by one behind the growing wall of emptiness._

_"_ _Jake…" she groaned, body still limp in his grasp._

_"_ _Just hold on, we'll make it," he begged. He was moving, but the portal remained as distant as when he began. His sister was gone, his father was gone…_

_"_ _Jake," she said more vigorously._

_"_ _I know!" he shouted. His mother's outstretched arm vanished, Lao Shi's eyes closed before fading from sight. He was never going to make it. He was going to lose everything._

"JAKE!"

"I KNOW!"

He was on his feet, his breathing hoarse and ragged. His shaking hands still had her gripped tight, but the monster was gone, the abyss was gone, the gateway was gone. It was just the two of them, alone in a small room echoing with the sound of his gasping breaths.

"Jake?" Sun said carefully. Her hands came up slowly to grasp his, loosening their painful clutches on her shoulders and folding them into her own. He was drenched in sweat, his face filled with terror, and the blanket from his bed was still caught on his foot after his sudden awakening. One moment he had been tossing violently in his sleep and now he struggled to rein himself in. Slowly, he relaxed, dropping back onto the mattress behind him.

"What happened?" he rasped, now taking in his surroundings. The bedroom was small, the window next to him showing a peaceful beach shining in the sunlight. He ran his hands through his hair, alarmed to see his skinny human arms and feel the hair and skin of his normal body.

Sun saw the spontaneous panic and immediately drew his attention, "It's okay Jake! You're alright, we're on the Isle of Draco away from any wizards. I'm human too, see?" He quickly looked at her, verifying what she had said to be true, and again relaxed his posture. "Are you okay, Jake? How do you feel?"

"Totally messed up…" he complained. "I feel like I haven't slept in days, and my back is _killing_ me…" He reached back and felt bandages across the back of his shoulders and neck.

"Well, I'm not surprised," Sun laughed, drawing back the curtains to let more light into the room. "Just relax for a bit. I'll tell Lao Shi that you're awake and get something for you to eat." She walked through the only door in the room and closed it behind her. By the time her and Lao Shi entered, Jake had propped his pillows against the backboard of his bed and was leaning against them, waiting for the persisting dizziness to slowly ebb out of him.

"Good afternoon, young dragon," his grandfather greeted him, pulling a chair to the side of Jake's bed and taking a seat. Sun did the same on his opposite side, placing the lunch tray she carried next to Jake's legs. The sight of food made him painfully aware of his gnawing hunger, and he quickly snatched the sandwich from the tray.

"You're the best, Sun," he thanked before diving into his food.

"Well, fighting the Dark Dragon must have given you quite the appetite," she remarked.

Jake nearly choked, coughing out half his bite of food shouting, " _The Dark Dragon_!" He turned to Lao Shi, continuing, "Gramps, the Dark Dragon's back, I don't know how but his goons were attacking the town and…"

" _Jake_ ," his grandfather interrupted. "We are aware of the circumstances behind the attack on Hogsmeade. The Dragon Council has been informed, along with all of the World Dragons." He sat up straighter now looking at Jake, a smile pulling at his wrinkled face. "You did very well, grandson. Along with the professors, Haley, Fred, and Dominic, we managed to evacuate everyone in the town without any serious injuries. Except, of course, for you…"

"Aw _man_ ," Jake mumbled, bumping his head against the backboard. "I did my best, G, there were just too many of those jerks. I couldn't even keep up my dragon form," he groaned with mixed disgust and shame. "At least Nerk wasn't there, he'd never let me live it down if he…saw me…" Jake's eyes snapped open. "Potter, he was there, did he…you know…?"

"No, Dominic took him away before you transformed. Had you not kept your form as long as you did, the Dark Dragon truly would have succeeded. To think it could actually be _worse_..." Lao Shi answered in a low voice.

"What do you mean 'worse'; I thought you said no one got hurt?" Jake didn't like turn this conversation had taken.

"An entire village was still attacked, Jake," Sun patiently explained. "We told Dumbledore the truth about the Dark Dragon being responsible, but the rest of the wizarding community is still in the dark. All they know are what the witnesses reported: that dragon shaped creatures suddenly appeared and terrorized the town, attacking the residents and students. You can imagine how the news is being received."

"So they blame us? After we _saved_ them?" Jake almost shouted.

"Not directly, no, though from what Stout has learned at the Ministry rumors abound about the coincidence of our arrival and this new threat," his grandfather answered. "Though we've maintained our secrecy, we must withdraw before our presence instigates further animosity. Otherwise, we may never reconcile ourselves with witches and wizards."

"We need to…leave?" Jake choked, refusing to believe his master's words. His face set in denial as he threw off his covers and stood from the bed. "No, nuh-uh, not gonna happen."

"Jake, the Council has already decided…" Sun tried to console him.

"Then I'll change their minds," Jake cut her off, slipping on his jeans and red jacket that had been folded on his nightstand. He found his shoes and left the room, the two Dragon Masters following close behind him. Sun continued to try and convince Jake of the wisdom in the Council's choice, but Lao Shi remained mysteriously quiet, making no comment as they left the living complex along the beach and followed the long stone path to the Dragon Temple, nestled into the mountain in the center of the island.

As they neared the top of the final staircase, Jake could see the two large, golden doors, exactly the same as they'd been two months previously. Sun had abandoned her attempts at swaying him and now followed silently beside Lao Shi as Jake pushed open the doors and strode into the room beyond. The same benches and platform for the Councilors were present, the Councilors themselves seated at their places as humans and ceasing whatever private conversation they had been conducting as the three of them entered.

"It's good to see you awake, American Dragon," Councilor Andam greeted Jake as he walked forward to stand in the center of the dais below them. "Now that you are feeling well, we would greatly appreciate your own testimony on the events of yesterday's attack to ensure we have as much information as possible."

"Sounds like you got the big picture from what Gramps told me," Jake answered, crossing his arms. "So what's the plan, when do we go back to Hogwarts?"

Councilor Kulde gave him a careful look before answering, "American Dragon, your Dragon Master no doubt told you of our decision. This expedition is to be terminated, and the six of you are to return to your respective regions."

"Oh yeah, G told me alright," Jake laughed, as though it were a playful joke. "It just sounded so whack that I didn't exactly believe him. I mean c'mon, the Dark Dragon attacks a village full of _children_ and y'all think we should take away the only people that can protect them?"

Councilor Kukulkhan let out a frustrated sigh before retorting, "The headmaster is more than capable of defending his own school, Mr. Long. Your own territories, however, that you are _sworn_ to guard remain sorely unprotected. Gregory has had enough trouble as it is assuming your responsibilities, but now that the Dark Dragon is at large…"

"Woah woah woah, you gave the Am-Drag's job to _Greggy_?" Jake fell into a fit of laughter. "That boy can't even protect his own backside, and you gave him the whole country? That's just wrong, yo."

"We were left with few choices, American Dragon," Kulde said with steely severity, bringing Jake out of his reverie. "Your cousin's lack luster abilities, however, are all the more reason we need you to return to New York City. Should the Dark Dragon attack the magical community located there, Gregory will stand little chance."

Jake managed to return his own serious demeanor, responding, "As long as gramps and I stay at Hogwarts, we'll know _exactly_ where the Dark Chump's gonna hit next. We're the two people he hates the most; he even chose to attack me over the Potter kid back in Hogsmeade."

Councilor Andam tilted his head in consideration. "Yes, that's true. The Dark Dragon's shadow demons nearly destroyed all of your dragon chi, and would likely have succeeded if not for Harry Potter. It took three of our best healers several hours to stabilize you." Again, the reminder of his defeat filled Jake with resentment as he lowered his eyes to look at the floor below him. It took him a moment before he could look once more back at the Dragon Council, intent on getting his way.

"I saw the way the students reacted to the attack. Even the oldest ones were useless, running and hiding instead of defending themselves," he said with slow clarity. "With the way the Ministry of Magic is teaching them Defense Against the Dark Arts, they'll never stand a chance against the Dark Dragon, or their Volde-freak. Harry's the only one with any experience, and Hermione and Ron are pretty good too, but that won't be enough."

"You've lost perspective, American Dragon," Councilor Kulde said. "How their government choses to teach them is not our concern, nor could we improve their defensive skills if we wanted to."

"We won't have to," Jake added smiling. "Before the shades attacked, Harry and the others were having a meeting to make a defense group so they could train on how to fight, and the place was _packed_ with kids. If we can help them keep it under wraps from Umbridge, then the next time something like this happens they won't just be sitting ducks!"

Now, the councilors were beginning to loosen their staunchly defensive attitudes, a fact that greatly served to hearten Jake. Councilor Kukulkhan lifted his head. "You said it yourself, Mr. Long. The Dark Dragon will likely continue to try attacking you and your Dragon Master, regardless of where you go or hide. You realize you would be putting the students and professors of Hogwarts in danger by returning there?"

Jake rolled his eyes at that. "Dog, _they're already in danger_. Their dark wizard or whoever is already trying to get Harry, and their Ministry's just as bad. At least this way we'd have everyone in one place, it'll be way easier for us and the professors to protect everyone! And no matter what their stupid newspapers or minister say about us, I know that dragons and wizards can work together and I'm not about to give up on that."

Councilor Andam rubbed his eyes, sinking lower into his chair. "Jake, if I recall correctly you were the one _most_ opposed to this arrangement from the start. So far both you and the Australian Dragon have been seriously injured within the span of a _month_ , and the Ministry of Magic has done nothing but fight against our attempts to build trust. So tell me," he stood now, planting both hands firmly on the stand in front of him and asking with barely stifled annoyance, " _why are you so desperate to return to Hogwarts_?"

Jake was actually surprised by the question, the answer seeming so obvious that he failed to understand why the Council struggled to anticipate it. He looked back for the first time at his grandfather, who had remained perfectly silent and now only looked at his grandson with a smile, nodding his understanding at his student's thoughts. Councilor Andam watched intently as Jake turned back to him, laughing.

"Because, yo. They're my friends."


	16. The Reception Party

"I understand…that you're excited Jake…but could you possibly…SLOW DOWN?!"

"Not a chance, Sun!" he laughed back. The teal dragon behind him groaned with exhaustion as she struggled to keep pace behind Lao Shi, the three dragons soaring over the English countryside below. It felt like they had made this same flight just yesterday, the rolling hills and lush greenery filling Jake with familiar comfort.

He still wasn't sure how they'd managed to pull it off, but after his 'testimony' the Dragon Council had deliberated with Lao Shi and Sun about Jake's refusal to abandon their diplomatic mission. Lao Shi had insisted that Jake return to their quarters and rest while they discussed the issue, and though Jake was suspicious of his grandfather's motives he obeyed and slept the day away back in his bed, a rest he sorely needed. He'd awoken that morning to his grandfather collecting their things and preparing to travel, making no mention of the Council's decision. Jake had assumed from his solemn attitude that his efforts had been in vain and morosely followed Lao Shi and Sun to the transportation building, stepping into the enchanted elevator and grudgingly accepting his defeat.

It was a curious surprise, then, to find that they weren't in the New York Subway when the elevator doors slid open, the lack of filth or any overwhelming stench leaving him confused. He looked to his master for clarification only to find him wearing an uncharacteristically silly grin. Sun was also watching him carefully with an equally pleased expression. Jake carefully stepped outside, hearing the strange accents of passerby and noticing the odd advertisements for products he'd never heard of. The reason for the masters' unnatural giddiness slowly donned on him and he swiftly turned around to face them.

"Don't play me like this, G, it so isn't cool."

"This is no joke, young one," Lao Shi laughed. "It would seem that our stay at Hogwarts is not yet over, though the Council asked me to remind you that…" He stopped talking, befuddled as Jake turned and ran to the nearest set of stairs. " _That we're on thin ice!_ " he shouted after Jake. He and Sun followed quickly, Lao Shi muttering various obscenities, and were soon standing on a busy street in London, catching sight of Jake as he ducked into an alley just a ways down the street. They turned the corner to see Jake leaning with a hand against the wall with his grey cloak undone and hanging loosely from his neck.

"Well, y'all, what are we waiting for?" He looked up at the still black sky, the stars already beginning to disappear one by one as the morning went on. "Bet we can make it before classes start?" He dropped his hand and carefully planted his feet on the ground.

"Dragon _ugghhh_ ," he groaned and fell to his knees, clutching his side. The two masters were soon by his side, helping him to his feet.

"Are you okay Jake?" Sun asked. "Remember, your dragon chi is still healing. It's alright if you can't assume your dragon form, we'll just postpone…"

"No, I'm fine, really. I just took it too fast is all," he muttered, brushing himself off. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, taking time to sense and gather the energy within him. He felt the warmth in his core, focused on the shape and feeling of his dragon form, and opened his eyes to see he was once again in his familiar red and yellow scaled body.

Before Sun could ask any uncomfortable questions, Jake laughed aloud and leapt into the air, flying fast with the two masters once again rushing to transform and chase after him. They soared after the horizon, the paling night sky slowly changing as they passed towns and rivers, the sun just now reaching over the edge of the world as Hogsmeade came into view.

"It looks like they've managed to reclaim the town," Lao Shi said aloud at the sight of villagers below starting their days and walking through the narrow, cobbled streets. Occasional burn marks and crumbled stone remained as artifacts of the recent battle, but the lack of any panicking crowds or demon hordes was some comfort, at least. "The others will be preparing in the Den, Jake. We should inform them of your condition before we head to breakfast."

In his eagerness to return, Jake had completely forgotten about the others and the worry he'd probably been causing them. Guilty for his absentmindedness, he nodded and adjusted his course as the castle loomed ahead between the trees and hills. Looking at the grounds of the school, unchanged and identical to the day they'd left, it was easy to forget that the Dark Dragon had returned or that they'd all been attacked by his army of shadows. They'd talked about some of the wizards thinking they were somehow at fault for the disaster, but what if those at Hogwarts had similar fears? Jake was starting to feel numb at the thought of the few hard-won relationships they'd managed to create being swept away like dust in the aftermath of the Dark Dragon's attack.

He craned his neck back to the two masters and asked, "I know Stout said the Ministry thinks we had something to do with the attack on Hogsmeade, but do you think the students…"

" _Jake!_ " The red dragon felt the wind get knocked out of him as something rammed into him forcefully, throwing him and the mass clinging to his torso out of the sky. He looked down to see the pink, scaled body of his sister wrapped around him in a powerful hug. Jake righted himself and kept them in the air as well as he could, given Haley was oblivious to their rapid descent, and managed to slowly flutter them downwards until they were just a few feet off of the lawns by the greenhouses. Another mass, yellow and striped, collided with the two of them, effectively tossing them all to the ground, sprawling in the grass.

"Knew you'd come back," Fred said as he lifted himself up. He helped yank a wheezing Jake to his feet before pulling him into a hug as well.

"Don't tell me you're getting soft, Nerk" Jake coughed as he took his first pained breaths, patting the yellow dragon on the back. Haley quickly jumped onto Jake and playfully threw her arms around his neck with laughter. He grinned evilly before falling backwards and crushing her beneath him with a yelp. The two fell into a bout of wrestling as their masters finally landed nearby to join them.

"It's good to have you back, Jake," Haley said as they stood and brushed off the dirt and morning dew that covered them.

"No kidding, it must have been so boring without me," he joked.

"Come to think of it, it was actually pretty nice," Fred said, turning to Haley. "Why did we miss him again?"

"Oh _ha ha_ ," Jake lulled, looking at Dominic as the three Dragon Masters stopped walking to stand by them all. "So what's the damage, Dommy? Things look pretty chill considering it's only been a couple of days."

"It's gone as well as could be expected," he answered smoothly. The green dragon placed his hand on Jake's shoulder, "I'm glad to see you're alright, kid. You gave us a bit of a scare, there."

Jake waved him off with a smirk. "Y'all are trippin' if you think the Dark Dipstick can take out the Am-Drag, the guy's as lame as I remember."

Fred didn't buy his show of cockiness, the yellow dragon shaking his head gently. "Sure, whatever you say mate."

"I take it since you all came back that we're still stuck here?" Dominic asked in mock disappointment.

Sun nodded her head in response. "The Dragon Council wanted us go back to our territories and prepare against the Dark Dragon's return, but Jake was able to…convince them otherwise."

The news didn't seem to change Dominic's forlorn expression. "Well at least we've got _them_ off our backs, now we just have to worry about the Ministry."

"Stout warned us of the rumors concerning our involvement in the attack," Lao Shi said. "Hopefully our actions at the school will keep these false suspicions within the _Daily Prophet_ and out of the minds of the students."

"There haven't been any more sightings of the Dark Dragon or his demons?" Sun asked, looking over her shoulder at the path towards Hogsmeade.

"Not since the attack," Haley answered, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn. "After we helped clean up the town, we started searching for any sign of them in the forest, up in the mountains, even by the lake, but we didn't find anything. None of the centaurs or sprites in the Forbidden Forest have seen anything either." If the defeat in her tone weren't apparent enough, her exhaustion certainly was.

"I am not surprised," Lao Shi grumbled with his arms crossed. He looked at his grandson and continued, "He was likely only testing us, and no doubt trying to create distrust with the wizards."

"I don't suppose the council figured out how he escaped?" Dominic asked.

Lao Shi shook his head. "The current Chinese Dragon confirmed that Victoria Peak is still vacant and the first Dragon Temple remains sealed away. Whatever managed to retrieve him did not break the dimension the temple resides in, but rather must have only partially opened it. Until he reveals himself once more, we will need to establish regular patrols and…"

"Yo, G, can we worry about all that business later? We're gonna miss breakfast," Jake interrupted, nodding up to the windows of the Great Hall where flocks of students could be seen bustling within. His grandfather gave him an annoyed look but followed with the others as they walked up the lawn towards the castle.

"And Hales," Jake said to the pink dragon walking beside him, the uncontrolled laughter already beginning to leak out of him, "you are _not_ gonna believe who the council got to cover for us…"

* * *

He should have known better. It was silly to think he could go more than an hour without a headache these days. He'd managed to catch up on his homework over the weekend and, despite the chaos of the past couple of days, somehow fell asleep at a normal time last night without waking up once with sweaty, jarred shakes. A good night's sleep meant little, however, when there was a ring of panicking faces all talking at once and filling your head so full of sound that you couldn't even think properly.

"She must know, there's no other way," George whispered.

"But how could she? Did someone rat us out? I bet it was that git Smith…" Fred said eyeing the table of yellow and black clad students.

"Trust me, no one said anything. One of the villagers at the Hog's Head probably told her," Hermione interrupted.

"Or maybe she did it because of the attack? You know, use it as an excuse to force us to do what she wants?" Neville said.

"I really doubt it, Neville," Ron responded. "The Hogsmeade trips are already cancelled, but going after clubs? Fat chance, she knows."

"Oh for heaven's sake, they're going to draw attention to us," Hermione hissed, seeing a couple of the Hufflepuff students approaching and waving them away frantically. A few of the Ravenclaws were also nervously looking at their group and Ginny left to keep them in their seats with an exasperated sigh. Dean motioned them all in closer, their heads all huddled into a tight circle.

"So then, what about our meetings? What'll we do?" he asked aloud while looking at Harry. The others shifted their gazes as well, all focused on their would-be instructor.

He didn't spare a second to even consider his answer. "We're still gonna do it, of course," he whispered, a sly smile pulling at his cheeks. The expression passed to everyone in the circle until he continued with, "That is, once we've figured out a place to practice."

"What about the astronomy tower? It's usually empty in the evenings," Neville suggested.

"It's also not terribly spacious, not to mention the whole 'falling-a-hundred-feet-if-you-mess-up' thing," Fred commented.

"The library then?" Dean proposed

Hermione sighed, "We already talked about the library, Dean, and Madam Pince will never let us practice magic in there." Their faces all fell to look at the table below, both in thought and despair.

"Y'all look _way_ too guilty about something," a familiar voice whispered down to the group.

Harry, along with the others, flinched backward from the head that had just spoken above the center of their ring. Ron's goblet of orange juice spilled over the table, Dean swore loudly, and Hermione quickly jumped to her feet, though Harry didn't immediately register why she seemed to do it out of excitement.

"Jake!" she laughed loudly, throwing her arms around the cloaked body of the tall red dragon that had been standing by their group.

"Good to see you too," he returned equally happy. The Weasleys were all ecstatic, and Dean and Neville seemed unchanged, but the rest of the nearby students were giving him shifty looks. Seeing the dragon in good health gave Harry a bit of relief that he desperately needed, but he hadn't forgotten their talk with Sirius and felt his joy and suspicion of the dragon warring within him.

Hermione finally relinquished her embrace and took a step back, eyeing him with concern despite her small smile. "We were so worried when you disappeared, are you alright?"

Jake gave a little huff. "Everyone keeps asking that, it really wasn't that bad. I feel great!" The dragon's eyes looked away from Hermione's and found Harry as he added, "And _you_ ," he said, approaching him and stopping just inches away, "are my _dawg_ , yo! You busted out some sick moves back in Hogsmeade!"

Their escape from the village flew through his mind, and Harry was surprised to find the dragon thanking _him_ for anything. "What are you talking about? You're the one that fought off all of those… _things_."

"A few more hits from those creeps at the end and…" Jake dragged his finger across his throat, the euphemism clear. "So thanks. You know, for saving me and stuff," he thanked Harry, his clenched fist extended from beneath the grey cloak.

Harry didn't understand the gesture until Ron nudged him in the back and muttered, " _Fist bump_." Embarrassed by his obliviousness, he quickly matched the dragon's gesture, glad that his earlier attempts at apologizing for the past couple of weeks proved unnecessary.

Jake turned back towards the rest of the group now, asking in a low voice, "So, what was up with the shady cult ring?"

"Umbridge is what's up," Ron answered, pulling a slip of paper out from his bag and handing it to the dragon. Harry recognized it as a copy of Umbridge's new Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, which had been plastered throughout the halls and dormitories just that morning. She had disbanded all student organizations throughout the school and prohibited the formation of any new ones not approved by her personally. Those ignorant of their group (or simply too naïve, in Neville's case) believed she was merely making a power play. Harry could see, however, that Jake was not as easily fooled, his expression growing more serious with every line he read.

He handed the paper back to Ron with a whispered grumble of, "This is so rank, yo, she's totally on to us."

"It'll be that much more difficult to meet without her noticing," Hermione responded. She paused and a thought crossed her mind as she continued with a smirk, "And what exactly do you mean 'she's on to _us_ '?"

Jake mirrored her prying look and smiled. "Let's just say that what went down at Hogsmeade helped me see just how _badly_ y'all need this little study group." He snatched a sausage link off of their table and tossed it in his mouth, asking in between chews, "So…y'all are still lookin'…for a crib…to practice in, right?"

"I don't suppose you've got any good ideas?" Harry asked halfheartedly, knowing full well the miniscule chances of the dragon thinking of anywhere they hadn't already considered. Jake scratched the length of his jaw with a claw in thought, absentmindedly tossing another morsel from the table into his mouth.

"You know," he started, swallowing the mouthful and staring at the partly cloudy ceiling above, "the Den would make a great practice room, but Dumbledore put some kind of mojo on it to keep non-dragons out. Maybe…" he trailed off until the bell began ringing in the distance. The tones yanked Jake out of his thoughts, shaking his head swiftly and bidding farewell. "A'ight, so it's a work in progress, but no worries. I'll think about it and get back to y'all!"

Harry watched him join the other dragons and leave the hall as the rest of their group also stood and sluggishly headed to classes. _People with secrets to keep don't make for loyal company, Harry_ , Sirius's voice echoed in his mind. Jake's enthusiasm was unusual to say the least, certainly welcome but undoubtedly unexpected.

"You going to come with us to History of Magic or just stare off all day?" Ron asked impatiently.

"Sorry…" Harry answered, picking up his things and debating whether or not to voice his suspicions. "Does it seem odd to you that Jake's all of the sudden interested in helping the defense group right after Umbridge puts up that new Decree?"

Hermione gave him a scolding look, the implications of his question clear to her. "No, it _doesn't_ , actually. He'd never tell her about it, the dragons hate her just as much as we do."

"But if he _did_ , we wouldn't know, would we? Whatever hex you put on the charter would go off if anyone who _signed_ it ratted us out, but we didn't get around to it until after the attack. He was already gone, he never signed it," Harry pointed out. Ron started to look a bit concerned, but Hermione didn't falter, maintaining her disappointed, defensive attitude as they walked up the staircase towards the classroom of Professor Binns.

"I can't believe you, Harry! After all they've done for us…" she protested heatedly.

"What if that's the 'secret' they've been going on about?" Ron interrupted in a hushed tone with wide eyes. He continued despite Hermione's incredulous look, "You remember, don't you? That Stout bloke was in on their secret, so what if Umbridge is too? Maybe it's because they're in close with the Ministry of Magic, trying to find other ways of getting to Dumbledore and Harry!" Harry nodded fervently, gratefully clinging on to Ron's argument.

"But…but Ron! Jake helped you get the Keeper spot! And the Ministry…they barely know them…and they're blaming the dragons for Hogsmeade and…and Fred! He…" she answered in a garbled mess.

"I don't like it either but you've got to admit it's a bit suspicious, and it's a _secret_ , Hermione, the Ministry's got to play the part, don't they?" Ron answered. Hermione looked increasingly offended as he spoke, stomping off ahead and entering the classroom without them as he finished. Exasperated, he dropped his head and followed her, Harry closing the door as he walked into the room after them.

As usual, he tried to listen to their opaque professor but was quickly lost to his thoughts, Sirius's words once again dominating his attention.

 _Be careful who you count as your friend, Harry_.

* * *

"What about the Forbidden Forest? Okay, wait, that's bad, forget I said that," Jake dismissed after seeing Lao Shi's response to his absurd suggestion.

"Remember, Jake, you cannot be responsible for these meetings, even if the students are unable to orchestrate them on their own. If you're implicated as being the antagonist for their actions…"

"I know, I know, G, chill! I just _really_ want to see this work out," he almost giggled with excitement as they waited for the students to leave Professor Snape's dungeon of a laboratory. Their potions lesson for the morning had just ended with minimal excitement (not counting the one Ravenclaw's concoction that had somehow become sentient and crawled out of his cauldron while making ear-splitting screeches), and they were preparing to make their way to History of Magic.

"Just think about it, they all show up to take their exams at the end of the year, the C.R.O.W.S. or whatever, and they blow the roof off the place, even with Umbridge's terrible teaching," he laughed, the pair now taking their turn to leave, Jake opening the door for them to exit. "The look on her face would be…" he halted suddenly, dumbfounded at the sight of the short woman he'd just been discussing standing only inches in front of them. Unlike the first day they'd met personally, Umbridge hardly reacted, looking up at the red and blue dragons with a cold, stony expression rivaling that of a concrete wall.

"Oh…it's you. I wasn't aware that you two had returned," she said, icy and devoid of emotion. She found her familiar, sickening grin and said, "But no matter. It won't be long before Cornelius and the Ministry have the situation…resolved." She gave a little girlish giggle before brushing past Jake and entering the dungeon beyond.

"And just what is that supposed to mean, yo?" Jake asked, both bemused and afraid.

She stopped and carefully turned back to them. "Well, of course you must understand," she laughed as though she were lecturing a toddler, "Or perhaps you don't, I wouldn't be surprised. Hogwarts is a school for teaching our youth how to become proper witches and wizards. There is nothing here for your kind, and it's time you all learnt your _place_." The fake smile slowly slid away as she finished and turned to continue approaching Professor Snape at the front of the room.

It took Lao Shi's hand on his shoulder to snap Jake out of staring after Umbridge with furious eyes and a dangerously contorted maw. His rage went so deep that he didn't speak to Lao Shi all through History of Magic, the silence between them only breaking as they sat down in the Great Hall for lunch.

"Woah, what's got you all riled up?" Fred asked, not entirely in a joking manner.

Jake was thinking of some witty sass to answer with, but stopped short when he turned to Fred. A consuming desire for scheming and humiliation that had once been frequent but now rarely surfaced was bubbling out from the back of his mind, and the one person who'd sympathize with his impulses had just taken the seat next to him. The yellow dragon eyed his friend's sudden gleeful expression with uncertainty. "Uh…you alright Jakeroo? You're starting to weird me out, mate."

"Nerk, my friend, take a walk with me," he said as he stood and headed for the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Jake?" his grandfather asked, but he got no response. Fred sat confused for a moment and looked between the two dragons before quickly getting up and following the red dragon, searching as he went for some clue to Jake's odd behavior. Once they'd passed beyond the doors, Jake leaned against the wall outside with Fred stopping beside him.

"Okay, now I'm worried, what's going on Jake?" Fred asked, the hump in his cloak moving gently as his wings fidgeted with nervousness.

"Umbridge crossed the line. Get this…" Jake answered, retelling what had transpired earlier in the dungeons below the castle with the High Inquisitor. By the end of his story, Fred looked more sick than upset, the edges of his mouth downturned in a disgusted grimace.

"She's a right beast, that filthy, ugly…" Fred sneered while eyeing the doors to the Great Hall.

"What she needs is a little attitude adjustment, and being guardians of the magical world don't you think it's our _responsibility_ to help her see the error in her ways?" Jake suggested, every word dripping with false sincerity. Fred watched him through squinted eyes, a wicked grin slowly spreading along his narrow snout.

"I think I've got just the kind of _rehabilitation_ she needs," Fred snickered. "I mean, I brought most of my little toys to get a few laughs out of you at some point, but sacrifices have to be made I guess."

"Same here, Nerk, same here," Jake laughed, the two walking back into the Great Hall to finish lunch. The meal passed quickly, the two of them having missed a good portion of it, and soon Jake and Lao Shi were once again alone in the large room with their own books opened to fill the time during their free period. Jake spent the majority of it concocting plans for his future exploits against Umbridge, realizing quickly that he'd soon have a prime opportunity in just a little less than an hour.

"Yo, G, I uh…forgot my book for the next class back at the Den! I'll go grab it and meet you there, cool?" Lao Shi still looked distracted from their earlier altercation and simply nodded in understanding. Jake made the trip quickly, snatching a few choice packages from his suitcase and stowing them carefully in the depths of his bag before flying back up to the castle. He met his grandfather outside the classroom and the two took their usual seats at the back of the room.

Jake retraced the steps of his plan as students slowly began to enter the room, most of them with understandable looks of foreboding and reluctance. He watched carefully as they passed until the one girl with tan skin and long, dark hair that always sat in the front row finally walked past him. He carefully slid his tail out and ever so gently tugged on one of her ankles mid-step, tripping the poor girl to the floor with a yelp of surprise.

" _Ouch,_ nice wipe out, you alright?" Jake asked as he helped her to her feet and picked up the belongings that had fallen out of her bag, carefully slipping a golf ball-sized blue capsule amidst the papers and quills. She brushed herself off and thanked him carefully before rushing away to her desk. _Phase One complete_ , he thought to himself as he sat in his own overly large chair. He leaned down and reached into his bag to pull out their boring textbook when a voice distracted him.

"Jake?" Hermione asked, looking nervous about something.

 _Oh crud, I completely forgot_ , he thought. "Sup Hermione! Sorry, I still don't have any ideas for the… _thing_ ," he apologized.

"Oh, right...that's fine! I just saw this on the floor nearby and thought you dropped it," she said, slipping a paper into his hand.

"Uh…I don't think…" he started, but she had already turned away and started walking back to her desk. Curious, he unfolded the paper carefully, finding it blank but for a few words scribbled into one of the corners, reading _Meet me tonight in the first-floor girls bathroom at 8_. Jake quickly crumpled the note and stuffed it in his cloak, feeling his grandfather's curious eyes watching him.

Jake's mind was a blur. If she wanted to talk to him, why was she being so secretive about it? Better yet, why decide to meet in a _bathroom_? Of course, the clenching in his stomach made it clear what Jake was hoping the intent of the note was, but still it was so peculiar coming from Hermione. _Compared to the 'kissy-kissy closet', though, it really isn't that strange,_ he reasoned, feeling the heat rushing into his face and the slight shaking in his hands at the thought.

Lao Shi nudged his arm and nodded to his unopened textbook. Jake looked around and saw the class was already immersed in the chapter for the day, Umbridge sitting at her desk in the front and watching over them all. _Phase Two_ , he reminded himself and opened his book, pretending to take part in the reading. He looked at the strange skeleton that hung from the ceiling above them and focused on what he thought resembled a rib, pointing a concealed hand at it from beneath his cloak. It took a few tries, Jake feeling terribly out of practice, but eventually he managed to break the bone free, the rest of the skeleton shaking on its chains and the now detached rib crashing to the floor below between two rows of desks to the startled cries of nearby students.

Umbridge immediately stood up, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and looked around the classroom before hurrying forward to the fallen bone. Lao Shi had also stood in surprise and Jake mimicked him for the sake of avoiding suspicion. Everyone watched with rapt attention as Umbridge took out her stubby wand and worked to repair the ornament above them, Jake turning to the girl in the front row and aimed his hidden claws at her bag. It rocked until it fell with a _thud_ on its side, a speck of blue within peeking out from the clutter of books.

The red dragon contained a smile, _Phase Three_. His excitement dulled the sensation of a building migraine as Umbridge, with rib firmly reattached, trotted back to her desk instructing the students, "Return to your reading, there will be no further disruptions." As she passed by the front row, Jake steeled himself and focused on the tiny capsule in the bag, manipulating it off of the floor and deftly maneuvering it into their professor's back pocket.

He watched with unbelievable apprehension, just waiting for her to feel the disturbance and unfold his entire scheme, but Umbridge failed to notice and simply continued to walk forward. Jake might have cheered aloud had the subtle migraine not suddenly turned into numb prickling throughout his body. He fell back onto his chair in sudden fatigue, failing to see Lao Shi's concerned look as he watched with unadulterated glee as Umbridge finally took her seat.

The effect was immediate. Sounds of party favors and miniature firecrackers exploded out, the tiny woman actually being lifted off of her seat and flinging forward onto the desk in front of her in a shower of sparklers and confetti. Everyone in the room froze solid, terrified as she flailed off of the desk and looked at them all with accusatory, furious eyes.

" _What_ is the meaning of this?" she snarled, her usually girlish voice quite distorted. No one responded, refusing to answer their soot-covered, streamer wrapped instructor. She turned back to her desk to look for evidence on her chair, but swiftly turned back around as the class erupted with laughter. "And what, pray tell, is so funny?!"

One of the girls near the front tried to stop her giggling long enough to form a coherent answer. "I-It's your...your sk...your _skirt,_ professor!"

"What? What do you mean my..." she said patting the fabric around her waist until she froze, petrified with her hands behind her back and feeling the edges of the gaping hole in her pants over her rear. Another round of pointed laughter spread throughout the room, Umbridge developing a radiant blush that easily overshadowed the thin makeup covering her powdered cheeks.

It was far more satisfying than Jake had anticipated, but the numbing sensation was growing stronger, his fatigue refusing to subside. The feeling reminded him of the attack a few days ago, and he realized with a start what was almost guaranteed to follow soon.

"No, no, no, this is SO not a good time!" he groaned.

"What is it, young dragon?" Lao Shi asked, worried at Jake's apparently unprovoked panic.

"I think…I…. _I need to go_ ," Jake whispered before quickly undoing his cloak and leaving the room. _Hide, I need to hide but where_ _?_ he thought, frantically looking around him as he felt his dragon chi slipping away with every passing second. _The Den? No, I'll never make it, aw MAN._ Without direction, he took flight and soared past staircases and hallways, trying desperately to find some alcove or room to hide in but being rewarded only with used classrooms and armored statues that turned as he passed. He was careening down a random corridor on one of the upper floors when his stretched, tiring efforts at focus failed and the flames finally engulfed him.

Jake rolled to the stone floor below him and quickly got to his feet, dread flowing through every vein in his body at the sight of his jeans and red jacket. He searched the dead end of the corridor he'd landed in, finding nothing but a window and a large tapestry of some ogres with clubs. There was nowhere to go, and he could hear voices beginning to fill the air beyond the hall as classes came to an end.

"C'mon, I just need somewhere to hide, is that so much to ask!" he begged aloud, running back and forth along the corridor hoping to find some crack in the wall or hole in the floor. He tried to transform back into a dragon, but pain surged through him and he fell to his knees, just like he had earlier that morning. "This is messed up, yo!" he gasped, clutching at his chest. "There's got to be something...they can't see me like this, I _can't..._!"

" _I thought she was going to strangle Pavarti after she told her about the hole in her skirt_!" a distant voice laughed, the sound echoing down the hallway. He raised his head, desperate and seriously considering leaping out through the glass window, when he noticed a door sitting plainly in the wall in front of him.

"Say _what_?" he whispered, but the encroaching sounds just around the corner gave him little time to contemplate the miracle. Jake rushed forward, crashed into the room beyond, and hurriedly slammed the doors shut behind him.

* * *

Harry was climbing the stairs with the rest of the Gryffindor students heading to their dormitory after Defense Against the Dark Arts, feeling marvelously uplifted after Umbridge's little trouser celebration. The spectacle was superb, a feat that he knew Fred and George would have certainly appreciated. Though no one had a clue what had actually happened, he had a feeling he knew the one responsible. Yet when he'd turned back to look at Jake and confirm his suspicions he was surprised to see the red dragon gone and Lao Shi sitting alone, looking intently at the slightly ajar classroom door.

A loud _slam_ to his left drew Harry's attention. He looked down the corridor ahead, however, and saw only an empty hallway with a hanging tapestry. The throng of students brushed against him and he turned once more to resume his climb, the wonderful memory of Umbridge's furious, burgundy face covered in strips of colored paper with her velvet bow dangling limply from her hair carrying him all the way up to the tower.


	17. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

A cold sweat covered Jake as he leaned against the wooden entrance behind him, barring it shut with the weight of his body. He strained to hear sounds from the hallway he'd narrowly escaped, listening for any sign that he had been too slow and someone was coming to check on the boy that had just fled into the room where he now stood. In return, his ears were met with deafening silence, marred only by his shaking breaths and the sound of his loose cloak rubbing against the door. Whether he remained in that stance for minutes or hours he wasn't sure, but eventually the adrenaline left him and he slid to the ground, relieved.

"That was way too close…" he groaned, cradling his head in his hands.

"Excuse me, sir," a tiny voice squeaked quietly, "if you could be more quiet, sir, Winky is trying to sleep."

Jake lifted his gaze with despairing lethargy, too exhausted to put up much of a fight and lost for any way to try and explain himself to students or staff. Thankfully it was neither which had addressed him as he found a short elf dressed in a sack, shoes, and several scarves, balancing a tower of various hats and beanies between his two floppy ears.

The elf mistook Jake's bewildered silence as compliance with his request, continuing in a low whisper, "Thank you, sir, Winky is not feeling well and needs her rest. Too much butterbeer you see, sir." He turned around to a small bed that Jake only now noticed and carefully adjusted the blankets on it to cover another small elf, which Jake guessed was the 'Winky' that the bedecked creature kept referring to.

With his company turned, Jake stood silently and knotted his cloak to cover his relatively conspicuous clothes, though the elf before him certainly had little room to judge his attire. Looking around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found the room to be fairly small, similar in size to the typical offices of the professors. It had a single window set into the wall to his left (currently covered by a thick, black curtain) with four beds of varying sizes spaced along the periphery, the smallest currently occupied by Winky. A cabinet stood next to Winky's bed with a few bottles lying within its opened doors, and a dresser sat below the blacked-out window, but otherwise the room was barren.

"Sorry for barging into your bedroom," Jake apologized softly. "I was just trying to find somewhere to hide, I didn't mean to…"

"Oh no, sir, this is not Dobby's bedroom," the elf replied. "Dobby came here to hide too, sir! Well, to hide Winky, Dobby means, sir."

"Then whose is it?" Jake asked.

"Everyone's and no one's, I suppose, sir," he answered cryptically. At Jake's confused stare, he elaborated, "This is the Room of Requirement, sir, or the Come and Go Room. It appears when you have real need of it, sir, and is always equipped with whatever you require! Dobby needed a place for Winky to rest in secret, sir, and this is what Dobby found," he finished, waving his arms at the entirety of the room around him.

"Well that's convenient," Jake mumbled in thought. "I can't believe I never heard about this place, you'd think everyone would be all up in it 24/7."

"Most don't know about it, sir, and those who do find it usually forget or only see it as a handy room at the time that they can't find later," Dobby said. "The house-elves know of it, of course, sir, but even Dobby had to practice calling the room when he needed it."

Dobby's words brought a tempting possibility to Jake's mind. "Hold up, you said this place can give you _anything_ if you really need it? So if you needed, say, a room to practice spells in, it could do that?"

Dobby nodded fervently with a smile, "I expect so, it's an amazing room, sir. Dobby has even found antidotes to butterbeer for Winky," he said, gesturing to the bottles in the cabinet beside him. He looked down sadly at the sleeping elf now, his pillar of headwear teetering dangerously. "Winky has been through a lot, sir, you mustn't think badly of her."

Jake would be lying if he said the sight were novel, having encountered his own fair share of passed out drunkards and drugees on the streets of New York. He walked forward to stand beside Dobby and took in the dried spittle and deep wrinkles on Winky's pale face, cringing a little at the severity of her condition. "Yo, she's totally messed up. I take it this isn't the first time she's partied this hard?"

Dobby sighed before answering Jake, "No, sir, Winky has been drinking lots ever since she got clothes over a year ago. Dobby has tried to help, sir, but she doesn't like clothes and she has trouble sleeping without a drink."

"Clothes?" Jake asked confused. He could recognize several kinds of elves and knew what they looked like in general, of course, but he admittedly knew little (okay, nothing) about these particular ones. Truth be told, he'd never encountered elves that looked quite like the two in front of him now, these so-called 'house-elves'. "You lost me, dog, since when are clothes a bad thing?"

Now it was Dobby's turn to look confused. "Because if a house-elf is given clothes by their master, they are set free, sir."

Jake narrowed his eyes, his tone dropping lower though not for the sake of the sleeping elf. "Tell me you did _not_ just say 'master' and 'set free'?"

His voice made Dobby's eyes open wider in fear before the elf asked, "You…are not familiar with house-elves, are you sir?" Jake shook his head slowly, still watching Dobby with deadly focus. "Well, house-elves are servants, sir. We are bound to wizard families and do what they asks of us, sir, or else we get punished, or worse…" he finished, turning back to Winky's still body.

"That's…just _sick_ ," Jake said, feeling the bile rise in the back of his throat. The fact that wizards enforced slavery on thinking, feeling, magical creatures was bad enough, but the way Dobby spoke made it seem as if it were _routine_ , like keeping a pet dog. "You'd rather be a naked slave than have your own freedom?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh no, sir! Not Dobby, sir, Dobby likes his freedom very much!" the little house-elf quickly disagreed. "Dobby's old family was very cruel, so now Dobby chooses to serve Dumbledore and his school, sir. Most house-elves like servitude, sir, we see it as an honor to serve wizards and getting clothes is the greatest shame for a house-elf."

"Say _what_ , that's…that's just," Jake started to argue when Winky turned beneath her sheets, the lids over her huge, glossy eyes fluttering open.

"Who'sa…is'a you Dobba…" she slurred, her arms struggling to untangle themselves from the blankets.

"Winky! Dobby is glad to see you are awake, how does Winky feel?" he asked, carefully helping her rise up from the bed to sit on the mattress with her short legs dangling over the side.

"Where'sa…wha'sa time Dobby?" she questioned, looking at the dull light coming from the edges of the curtained window.

"Winky slept through the whole day, but Dobby thinks if Winky hurries she can still make it to help with dinner!" he said excitedly, clearly relishing in the thought of the work they'd soon be able to return to.

The dizzy house-elf didn't form any coherent response to his proposition, but Dobby was satisfied with whatever motion she made as he hurriedly helped her to her feet and dragged her stumbling behind him as he made for the door.

"Maybe some cooking and cleaning will help Winky feel better," he suggested as he pulled the door open and shoved her small frame out into the hall. His many scarves had just disappeared beyond the edge of the entrance when Dobby's head popped back into the room to find Jake, who was watching marveled at the nearly horizontal pile of hats that still refused to fall out of formation atop his head. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir," he said politely before finally withdrawing through the door with a muffled _thud_.

Their sudden departure gave Jake little chance to ask any more questions or even return Dobby's goodbye, his hand only having risen halfway towards a wave by the time the house-elf had sealed the room behind him. Tired of the darkness and wishing for an outlet for his lingering frustrations, Jake walked over to the solitary window and roughly jerked the curtains aside. He saw with surprise that the sky was already stained red and orange, the sun falling ever closer to the mountains on the horizon.

"Gramps is gonna flip when he finds out I lost it again," he lamented, deciding he'd spent enough time in this surprising room. A quick meditative venture confirmed that his dragon chi had already regained most of its former strength, a much better result than the days it had taken last time. Taking his stance in the center of the room and loosening his cloak, Jake felt the warmth of energy flow throughout his body as he envisioned his dragon persona, the familiar magical flames erupting in his hands.

"Dragon UP!" he yelled, drawing his arms close to his chest and allowing the wave of fire to flow out, covering him head to toe. A moment later, the embers subsided and he stood tall with his wings extended and tail flared, his powerful dragon figure returned.

Satisfied with the results, Jake made to leave the room when he felt something beneath his foot. He stepped aside to find a crumpled piece of paper, recognizing Hermione's short message as he picked it up and remembering their apparent meeting later that night. Recent events had done more than simply kill the mood he'd imagined earlier, and his mind was now racing with newfound doubts of the young witch and her friends. His memories of her boldness and compassion conflicted with the thought of Winky's haggard, dilapidated body, a sense of betrayal burning deep inside him.

 _No, I must be missing something. I_ know _them, and they would never do something like that…would they?_ For all of their supposed superior knowledge, Jake felt that the past several hours had proven just how poorly they understood these people. He fought down the clenching in his stomach, trying with great difficulty to suppress his building emotions. _I'll talk to the others, maybe they can explain what's going down around this place…_

 _"You playin' yo'self, Jackie,"_ Trixie's voice echoed, the three of them sitting comfortably in a lodge in the mountains, flurries of snow howling outside the windows.

 _"Yeah, bud, you gotta, like, wake up and smell the roses,"_ Spud agreed.

Jake thumped his head against the wood paneling of the door. Every bump of his skull helped push the memory of that winter trip so many years ago out of his mind, buried deep below the piles of snow that had surrounded him and taking with it all of the shock, denial, and doubt that had threatened to consume him. Yet no matter how many concussions he inflicted on himself, he couldn't completely forget the curling mark around her wrist or tear his gaze away from those piercing blue eyes filled with lethal rage and unbridled hatred…

"I've got terrible taste in women," he huffed, opening the door and trudging out of the curious room.

* * *

"This is all _your_ fault, Potter!" Angelina Johnson roared, cheeks flushed and eyes wild. "After what happened in your class today, there's no chance Umbridge will ever let us reform the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

"I didn't do a thing!" he shot back, more than a bit annoyed and defensive. Students were just leaving the hall as dinner ended, but those that remained were watching the exchange with deep interest. "No one knows what happened, and she'd already told you 'no' earlier this morning!"

"When it comes to Umbridge being unbearable, it's nearly always because of you!" She turned away as she saw McGonagall rise from her place at the head table and give her a dangerous stare. She finished a smidge more quietly, "I'll try to get this sorted out, but it goes without saying that practice is cancelled tonight."

Without another word she turned curtly and stormed out of the hall, her hands balled into fists. Harry didn't blame her for being upset, but he certainly didn't feel the least bit responsible for Umbridge's fat headed, power hungry attitude. "Even if it means missing a night of practice, it was still worth it," he said unconcerned to Ron and Hermione beside him.

"I thought for sure it was one of Fred and George's pranks, but they said they hadn't got anything like what we saw," Ron mused aloud. "Still, never thought I'd be so happy to see that hag's wrinkled, saggy…"

"So you two will be free later tonight, then?" Hermione interrupted, not needing a reminder of that already fresh and vivid image.

"You heard Johnson, Hermione, I reckon half the school did…" Ron answered, looking over his shoulder quickly to check that she wasn't in the near vicinity as they left the Great Hall and began climbing the staircases.

"Though you can't exactly say we're 'free' with all the homework we've got piled up," Harry groaned.

"That's fine, we can work on it in the common room," Hermione said hurriedly, deflecting his worries, "but I've got something to do at eight tonight and I think you both should join me."

The boys shared a hesitant look before Ron responded, "If it's about S.P.E.W. or knitting more clothes for the elves, Hermione, I think we'd be better off _not_ joining if it's all the same to you."

She halted at the fifth floor landing and glared at him, looking quite offended. "Well you'll be glad to know that it's got nothing to do with the house-elves, _Ronald_. I'll tell you more when we're on our way, but we'll probably need your cloak, Harry."

Now that peaked their interest. Hermione rarely deferred to using Harry's Cloak of Invisibility, and her attitude in general was riddled with uncharacteristic scheming. They arrived at Gryffindor Tower and promptly began to pull out their assignments, but Harry's curiosity kept him thoroughly distracted from his work. His eyes focused on the clock above the mantle and only occasionally flickered back to his Potions essay as the hands moved at an agonizingly slow pace. It seemed to take ages, but soon they were only thirty minutes away from eight when she finally closed her textbook and leaned in to whisper between the three of them.

"We should get going soon, you've got your cloak Harry?" she asked carefully, the persistent flickering of her eyes and barely noticeable tremble in her hands giving away her growing uneasiness.

"Yeah, it's here in my bag, but Hermione where are we going? The Restricted Section of the library, the Forbidden Forest?" Harry asked in a low voice, looking annoyed at the little cry that Ron gave at the mention of the dense, infested woods.

Hermione stood and grabbed up her bags, motioning for the other two to follow her as she made for the portal to the common room. They followed diligently, all three stepping out past the portrait of the Fat Lady and out onto the seventh floor landing. The trio began to descend the staircases and Harry was considering badgering her for information once again before she finally spoke to them over her shoulder.

"We're going to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," she said shortly, refusing to look at either of them directly.

"And…why is that again?" Ron asked.

"You aren't thinking of having our lessons in _there_ , are you? I don't think there's enough room, Hermione, not to mention Myrtle's big mouth…"

"No. We're going to meet someone because we need to know who we can trust and I clearly can't convince either of you on my own…"

"Wait," Harry stopped her, understanding donning on him, "this is about the dragons, isn't it? Hermione, it's not that I don't _like_ them, I just don't want another 'Mad-Eye Moody' hanging around us like last year."

"I understand, Harry, and that's why we're going to find out the truth once and for all." They were just passing the end of the third floor and started descending the next flight of stairs. "I told Jake to meet me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom tonight so we can talk alone, without any other wizards or dragons to make him feel guarded."

"And just what makes you think he's going to say anything, Hermione? They've been pretty tight lipped so far about the important stuff," Ron questioned her. They'd reached the bottom floor and began walking down the hallway towards the bathrooms.

She didn't respond to him immediately and instead waited until they were just outside the bathroom door before turning to face him. Both Harry and Ron were surprised to see her smiling ever so slightly. "He wouldn't have saved us in Hogsmeade or come back from the Isle of Draco if he didn't care about us, I'm certain of it," she said softly before pushing open the door and stepping into the gloomy room beyond.

"Oooohhhhh, the little potion makers came back to spend some time with poor old Moaning Myrtle," a reverberating, hollow voice crooned as they entered and stood by the sinks.

"It's good to see you, Myrtle," Hermione said in a convincing tone of sincerity. "We just stopped by to do homework somewhere quiet. Everywhere else is too loud, and we thought your bathroom was as good a place as any," she explained while lifting her bulging bag as evidence.

The ghost floating between the two rows of stalls seemed to deflate significantly at the news. "Of course you did, after all no one ever comes just to talk to me, _do they_?"

"Actually, I heard a few of the prefects were going to our private bathroom upstairs in just a bit. If you hurry, you might be able to catch them, I bet they'd make much better company than us," Hermione informed her, pleased as Myrtle developed a broad smile that was completely devoid of innocence. The ghost quickly arched into the air and dove into the nearest stall, water pouring out of the toilet bowl as she entered the piping while giggling madly.

"The poor girl's got some really deep-seeded issues," Ron commented idly.

"That should keep her busy for a while at least," Hermione sighed, somewhat relieved that things were at least going well so far. She glanced down at her delicate watch before turning to the two boys quickly. "It's almost time, you two should get under the cloak." Harry was about to question the necessity of it when she automatically responded, "I only mentioned that I'd be here and he might think I tried to set him up or something if you're both here too."

The two boys conceded and moved to the far corner of the bathroom behind the sinks, Harry unraveling the balled up cloak. They had to crouch near the floor to be sure they were completely covered, Ron leaning away from a puddle of stagnant water.

"It didn't used to be this hard to fit under the bloody cloak," Ron whined.

"How do we look, Hermione?" Harry asked.

She gave them a thumbs-up and looked around the room, apparently thinking very hard about her surroundings. Her search came to a stop on the sinks and mirrors and, with a shrug, she walked over and turned on the faucets to let the water run. Pretending to muss with her hair and straighten her clothes, she watched the reflection of the door in the mirror, waiting for the arrival of their reptilian guest.

Hermione checked her watch compulsively and was starting to worry as they approached ten minutes past eight when they heard knocking on the bathroom entrance. She took a slow breath and tried to calm her quivering voice before answering, "Come in!"

The door creaked forward and Jake's head leaned in through the opening, holding the hood of his grey cloak tightly over his head and covering his eyes. "Is that you Hermione?" he whispered, remaining outside the room with only his covered head visible.

"It's me, Jake," she said with a hint of laughter. When he still hesitated she continued, "The bathroom's empty except for us, you can come in."

Slowly, he allowed the hood to fall away from one of his eyes and he carefully surveyed the room, finding it as empty as she'd claimed. "I'm not telling you how to do your business, but bathrooms are weird places for meetings, Hermione," he joked as he finally walked in and closed the door behind him.

Hermione leaned against the sink behind her and smiled. "It's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She's a ghost that cries quite a lot, so no one ever comes in here," she explained.

Jake walked forward until he was halfway between her and the door. "So…what's up? What'd you want to meet for?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable and fidgeting constantly.

"I just wanted to talk…in private," she said, patting the lip of the sink next to her. A squeamish smile passed over the dragon's face for a moment before he accepted the gesture and leaned against the sink next to her.

"Well, we're here," he said smoothly, much more relaxed. "So, uh…heh, what'd you wanna talk about?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to look distressed, clasping her hands in front of her and flexing her fingers open and closed repeatedly as she struggled to form her thoughts into words. "To be honest, I wanted to talk about you, Jake."

Harry watched the dragon carefully, expecting him to disengage like the dragons usually did when questions were directed at them. To his surprise, Jake actually seemed a little happier as he ran his claws through his black, green-tipped hair. "Alright, what'd you want to know? I'm a Pisces, favorite color's red, I like my meat well-done…"

Hermione laughed and shook her head, Jake watching with joyful satisfaction. She looked up at him with that curious expression she often saved for Jake, as though she were trying to decipher some ancient runes written across the dragon's forehead. "You know, I've been meaning to ask - and I don't want to sound rude - but how old are you?"

"What, that's it?" he scoffed, looking at her with feigned disappointment before puffing out his chest with pride. "Easy, 87. No, wait, hold up." Jake made a show of counting with his claws and muttering nonsense numbers before correcting, "88, that's what I meant. I can never get that right..."

"Wow, I...well, I suppose dragons probably age differently than humans, but...well, I wasn't expecting 88," she commented, unbelieving.

The dragon wore the most offended look he could muster. "You can think whatever you want, pipsqueak, but in my neighborhood we treat our elders with _respect_."

"No, o-of course I didn't mean...I just thought that..." she apologized profusely until Jake finally cracked, strained chuckles escaping his clenched mouth. Hermione grudgingly smiled as well. "That's _not_ funny, Jake."

"Actually it was _very_ funny." Hermione didn't seem impressed and continued to watch him expectantly. "Okay, fine, I'm 16. How about you, around 30 right?" He roared with laughter at her bewildered shock, earning an annoyed slap on the arm as she rebuffed his tease.

"Chill, girl, I'm just messin' with you. Now it's my turn," he said, reaching up a scaly hand to rub his chin in thought. "Got it, what's your middle name? I've got the 'Hermione' and the 'Granger', but two out of three ain't that great of a score. Let me guess, Jessica?" She shook her head smiling. "Emily?" She denied him again, her curls bouncing with the motion.

"It's Jean, Hermione Jean Granger," she answered happily.

Even now, the dragon's grin only appeared to grow larger as she spoke. "Jean…it's perfect," he said in a low voice.

If he didn't know better, Harry would have sworn that the dragon was actually _flirting_ with Hermione, and her sudden blush at his last comment supported that suspicion absolutely. Ron must have felt the same as he began to rise from his crouch, forgetting their place beneath the cloak. He shifted his foot over as he did so and stepped into the puddle beside him, the splashing noise echoing into the silence that lingered in the room.

Harry froze, his arm gripping Ron tightly and keeping him in place. Both Jake and Hermione looked over at the noise, Hermione wide-eyed at apparently remembering their presence and Jake scanning the area with intense scrutiny. His yellow eyes examined the puddle and its surroundings with so much effort that they almost looked like they were glowing.

"Yes! Well…" Hermione snapped back into focus, trying to get Jake's attention, "how about you? I find it hard to believe that the Dragons of Draco Isle each only have one name."

"No, no, my name's…" Jake answered absentmindedly as he slowly looked back to Hermione, catching himself at the last moment. The joy that had lined his face up until then had been replaced with despondent sadness. "…I can't tell you," he sighed, his head drooping lower as he continued to joke halfheartedly, "I'm just Jake. First name Jake, last name Jake, middle name Jake, which is short for Jacob by the way."

Hermione hesitated a bit at his diversion but persisted nonetheless, deciding that it was now or never and going for broke. "And what about 'The American Dragon'?" He looked at her in dumbfounded surprise, the gears of his mind churning furiously for a course of action plainly visible to her. "Please, Jake, Harry heard everything that voice said in Hogsmeade, it's alright," she said soothingly, putting a hand on his cloaked arm gently.

Jake's eyes seemed to glaze over for a minute as he leaned against the sink, deep in thought. "Everything?" he whispered, bowing in defeat. Hermione's continued silence was the only affirmation he needed, letting out a lengthy sigh and ruffling his hair again. The tension was palpable and Harry watched as the moment of truth finally arrived. If they were going to learn anything about the dragons' intentions and whether or not they could be trusted, it was here and now.

"Well…that's harsh," Jake chuckled after what seemed like an eternity. He looked back down at Hermione, his unexpectedly relieved attitude actually worrying her a little. "Alright, you win, Hermione," he admitted, facing the mirror behind him and turning the sink faucets until water began to flow. "Do you know what the Dragons of Draco Isle do, what our job is?"

She hadn't anticipated the question and thought for a moment before answering tentatively, "Not really, no. _A History of Magic_ briefly mentions the Dragons of Draco Isle in some very early treaties several hundred years ago, and Dumbledore said that you defended magical creatures in his speech at the First Feast…"

"You got it," he interrupted as he wetted his claws and styled his hair in his reflection. "The Dragons of Draco Isle protect and guard the magical world from normal humans, or muggles I guess." The dragon looked at his hair from several angles before giving his mirror image a wink and turning off the water. "Most countries have a top-dog dragon that's responsible for the entire territory called a World Dragon. There's one for Egypt, China, Peru..."

"And you're the World Dragon for the USA?" she asked intuitively, her expression alight with avid interest.

"Bingo."

"And what about the others?" she continued, her mind racing with new possibilities. "Fred has a cockney accent, so he could have Australia, but I haven't got a clue about Lao Shi, Dominic, or Sun. There's Haley too, but she sounds just like you...maybe Canada, it's close to the USA at least?" she asked in a flurry of questions and theories, Jake struggling to find an opportunity to get anything in edgewise.

"Whoa, girl, you gotta take it down a notch," he laughed. "Yeah, Fred is the Australian Dragon, ten points for Gryffindor. Lao Shi used to be the Chinese Dragon and Sun is the Korean Dragon, but Haley being the Canadian Dragon? Way off track." He hadn't intended to mock Hermione's hurried guesses, but the spontaneous thought of Haley in a moleskin hat riding a moose was too much for him. "Only World Dragons get titles like that. Haley's runner up for American Dragon if I ever, you know, go belly-up."

"Oh…" she said, suddenly much more reserved. It was fairly clear that her thoughts had drifted to the recent attack and Jake's uncertain condition afterwards.

Her abrupt change in attitude hadn't gone unnoticed by the dragon. "Yo, Hermione, don't worry about it. I don't plan on croaking any time soon," he comforted her.

"Of course not…sorry," she recovered, trying to wear her smile again despite being derailed. An awkward silence persisted between them as she screwed her face up in thought about the next difficult question she needed to ask. "I never did thank you for what happened at Hogsmeade. If you hadn't been there..." she trailed off, not wanting to consider that particular outcome. Jake simply listened and waited patiently for her to collect herself. "I thought those smoke creatures were bad, but the voice at the end...what was it? It sounded an awful lot like it _knew_ you..."

"Easy," he said again, this time with cold severity. He turned back to the mirror and touched the reflective surface with one of his claws. A front of dark color spread out in a rippling wave from the point he'd tapped, the surface of the mirror turning into an undulating, black curtain. Hermione gave a small gasp of surprise at the spectacle, watching new colors meld into view and mix together until a cloudy scene coalesced before them.

" _Wicked_ ," Ron whispered. Harry threw his hand up to slap against his mouth and quiet him. Jake looked at the corner where they were crouched, flashing a smirk before turning back to the mirror. It looked like a recording of a scene from Jake's perspective where he and Lao Shi were struggling in a fight against a monstrously large black and purple dragon that hurled flames as dark as night and filled the air with cackling, inhuman laughter.

"We call him the Dark Dragon, a rogue Dragon of Draco Isle that wants the magical community to enslave humans and conquer the world. He's a _huge_ jerkwad, kind of like your Lord Moldywart. See, he's got a grudge out for me and Lao Shi because we keep kicking his butt..." he said as they all continued to watch for a bit longer. The past Jake continued his fight and dozens of other dragons in the background were readily visible, warring with the now familiar army of shade demons. Harry was entranced by the experience and watched intently as a normal human-sized figure in a green and black outfit leapt into view and joined the fray. Jake immediately tapped the mirror once more to remove the memory, leaving the mirror again reflective and heavily scratched while Harry found himself longing desperately for closure.

"That was almost two years ago," Jake said, his voice thick with some foreign nostalgia.

"What happened?" Hermione asked reverently.

He turned to give her a weak smile. "We won. Stuck him in another dimension and went home, case closed, but the creep got out somehow," he said, exasperated.

"I can't believe it," Hermione whispered in disbelief.

"Yeah, you're telling me."

"No, I mean I can't believe how oblivious the wizarding community is. The Dragons of Draco Isle are around the world, defending magical creatures and fighting these battles every day, but no witches or wizards have seen a thing," she said exasperated, folding her arms with the frustration of it all. "We're either impossibly blind or you're all brilliant at hiding. I don't suppose you can naturally turn invisible?" She had intended it as a compliment and was met instead with an annoyed glare from Jake.

"Yeah, well, wizards don't exactly care all that much about magical creatures, and it's not like you give us tons of reasons to trust your kind either," Jake sneered, the blatantly harsh tone surprising Harry.

Hermione looked stunned, and for a moment considered the possibility that Jake was just toying with her again, but the shock was slowly replaced by indignation as he maintained his serious demeanor. "Listen Jake, I know witches and wizards haven't always made the best decisions in history…"

"That's the understatement of the century," he commented sarcastically with an eye-roll. "The centaurs are about to fly off the chain because the Ministry keeps taking their land, Giants are practically going extinct, and there are more 'laws' degrading werewolves than I've got scales on my butt, yet you wonder why we don't like dealing with you guys."

"And what about that, hm?" Hermione retorted, taking her turn on the offensive. Harry could see she was upset, but he couldn't tell whether it was out of anger or despair. "Dumbledore invites you here so that we can learn more about each other. We show you our classes, our games, even our common room! But all you've done is sit quietly and avoid us. You won't even tell me your proper name! Honestly, I don't understand why you feel the need to be so secretive all of the…"

"Because we're afraid, Hermione!" Jake yelled, the vertical slits of his pupils narrowed into thin black lines. "No offense, but wizards have a bad habit of being selfish, power hungry chumps that do whatever they feel like. You go around thinking you're _all that,_ stomping on muggles and magical creatures because they're _beneath you_. Well guess what, Hermione, I'm not down for being the new fashion trend in home-style slavery like the house-elves!"

Hermione put her hand over her mouth, Jake's last remark hitting home. He backed away from the dejection painted across her face and turned to the nearest stall enclosure, scratching his claw at the faded paint. Silence reigned once again as Hermione did her best to control her tight throat and quivering voice.

"There are cruel, heartless witches and wizards in the world, Jake, and the same goes for muggles and even dragons. That doesn't mean that some of us can't be trusted," Hermione pleaded. The dragon stopped carving the wood and turned his head to look at her sadly with one of his eyes.

"Yeah, I used to think that too," Jake said. He lifted one of his hands from beneath his cloak and waved it to the damp corner of the bathroom, the puddle of water exploding and sending soaking mildew in every direction.

" _Bloody hell!_ " Ron yelled as he dove away from the deluge, knocking Harry and himself to the tiled floor with the cloak falling limply beside them. Hermione looked horror-struck and turned swiftly between the two Gryffindors and the dragon, her mouth opening and closing to mime unvoiced words. Finding no excuse, she carefully stepped forward to raise her hand up onto Jake's shoulder.

"Jake, I swear we weren't trying to deceive you, I just thought that you'd be more comfortable if it were just the two of us and…"

"And you didn't think a stupid _dragon_ would find out you lied, either." Whatever stony attitude was left in Jake melted away as she dropped her head, on the verge of tears. "Yo…it's okay, Hermione," he said, resting his own hand over hers and wearing a soft smile.

She looked back up to him and barely managed to smile back, though it didn't stay for long. "I'm so sorry, Jake."

The red dragon looked over to see Harry helping Ron to his feet and trying to brush the grime off of his cloak. Jake dropped his hand and put a crumpled piece of paper in Hermione's palm before making to leave the bathroom. He'd gripped the handle and pulled the door open when he turned back to see the three of them now grouped together.

"I'm sorry too, Hermione," he said, unknotting his cloak and taking his leave.

Lost for words and rooted to the floor, Hermione looked down at the mashed parchment and unfolded it gingerly. Harry saw it was covered in wording and watched Hermione read it through, several expressions crossing her face before she finished with a look of terrible regret and handed it to him wordlessly. He quickly snatched it away and examined it, finding first Hermione's scrawled handwriting in a corner asking Jake to meet her that evening. Below it, however, was an entire paragraph written messily by someone else, headed with the words _The Room of Requirement_ and boldly signed at the very bottom in crooked writing. The contents of the paragraph described a hidden and impossibly useful room, as well as how to find it. The implications of this information filled Harry to the brim with ecstasy, but the short salutation that preceded the signature quickly annihilated his excitement and made his chest ache for the friend they'd just let walk out on them.

_Good luck, and no more running._

_-Jake_


	18. To Arms

As was becoming more frequent with the shorter days and colder weather of fall, the sky was once again a tumbling sea of thick, grey clouds. Rain droplets slapped against the glass windows with the gentle downpour outside and Jake watched with unfocused curiosity as they slid down the panes, occasionally joining together into larger bodies and racing one another to crash into the sill below. The trails and patterns were at least some distraction, and he wondered idly as he watched the clouds whether flying through the vapors and drenching himself in their chilling waters would help at all to soothe his thoughts.

 _She already said she was sorry._ Yeah, cuz that fixes everything. _It should, they're the closest human friends you have here._ And since when do friends go behind your back like that? _Because she was thinking of you!_ Sure she was, why would I have cared if Ron and Harry were there too? She could have told me, no problem, but she lied. _You know you can't cut them off just like that, especially Hermione._ Oh yeah? Just watch me…

"How go your _observations_ , young dragon?"

Jake dreamily turned away from the window, fluttering his eyes and trying to refocus. Lao Shi was watching him expectantly as they sat in the back of the classroom for Charms, students in the rows below them of the amphitheater shaped room practicing spells on various animals. Professor Flitwick had just set them all to try and successfully silence the noisy creatures when Jake had begun to drift off into his own morose world.

The short professor that had first greeted them at the gates to the castle what felt like ages ago was passing through the row just in front of them when Lao Shi had tried to get Jake's attention. Annoyed by his student's lack of interest, the aged blue dragon hailed the professor, his clawed arm lifted out of his cloak and into the air.

"Pardon me, Professor Flitwick…" Lao Shi called, the short man quickly running up the stairs to answer his summons, which were in and of themselves a rare treat.

"Yes! Yes, what can I do for you?" he chirped.

"Would you be willing to spare one of your creatures for my student to practice with?"

He grinned so spectacularly that Jake was surprised there was any room left on his face for his bushy mustache to find purchase. "Absolutely! Terribly foolish of me not to have one already prepared for you!" He flicked his wand over his shoulder to the front of the room, a large toad zooming out of the cage on his desk and coming to rest on the table he'd just conjured in front of the two dragons.

"My thanks!" Lao Shi said loudly over the mad croaking of the frightened toad. The professor nodded and continued to watch the blue dragon passionately, not moving so much as an inch. The irritation from the constant croaking distracted Lao Shi from small man's awkwardness as he turned to instruct Jake.

"As we discussed, Jake, intent and motion!" He promptly focused on the toad and snapped his fingers, the irritating calls ceasing immediately. The creature opened and closed its mouth in vain, producing no sound.

"Oh, _splendid!_ Well done indeed!" Professor Flitwick cheered, clapping his hands.

 _Remember how depressed you were in this place before they showed up?_ Lao Shi snapped his fingers again, the toad finding its voice once more and using it to full effect. He gestured for Jake to try, but after the red dragon snapped his fingers the toad's cries persisted, unaltered and painfully loud. Professor Flitwick gave a small disappointed sigh and Jake looked ruefully in his direction. Lao Shi must have noticed as he quickly addressed the Head of Ravenclaw house.

"I believe one of your students near the front requires assistance, professor." He gave a small squeak of surprise at his obliviousness and hurried off back down the stairs, nearly tripping as he went to address the raven up front, whose head was slowly growing to an alarming size. Lao Shi looked back at his pupil carefully. "Your mind is clouded, Jake, what troubles you?"

"Nothing," Jake dismissed automatically. _Don't act the fool, you're blaming them for Winky_. He glared at the toad, thought about the quiet of his room in the Den and the peace of the downpour outside, and snapped his fingers forcefully. Still, nothing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "You are a terrible liar, Jake. Are you still upset about the house-elves, even after our talk?"

 _Okay, that's just creepy old man_.

Lao Shi took his refusing silence for admission as Jake sat snarling at the frog, snapping his fingers in a flurry. "Jake, it is their way of life, what makes them _happy_. Even if we did force the wizards to free them, it would only…"

"G, please, I really don't want to talk about this right now." The toad was blessedly silent, though it was from exhaustion and not Jake's chapping fingers. Sooner than either of them would have liked, it found renewed energy and continued its serenade. Even imagining a velvet bow and pink outfit for the creature didn't improve Jake's results.

Lao Shi watched him struggle quietly for a while before starting again. "Perhaps it is not the elves that trouble you, then."

Jake's eyes flickered to him for a second.

The brief moment was enough for Lao Shi to see his panic. "You forget that I was young once too, Jake, but you must learn that the crow that plucks the worm leaves the nest unattended."

 _You're pushing it, G, just shut up. I don't need any of your Chinese bull-…_ "

"I am also not blind, Jake, and multiple times these past several days have you ignored Ms. Granger's…"

"GRAMPS!"

The roar echoed unnaturally through the room as Jake slammed his hand flat on the table, followed by complete silence. The creatures made no noises, the students gaped unspeaking and dumbfounded, even the pattering of rain on the windows sounded distant. Lao Shi watched him breathe heavily, concerned and uncertain, before clapping his hands together loudly. The cacophony of animal calls resumed and the students continued their practice for the rest of the lesson, yet the dragons continued to sit in icy silence, Lao Shi granting Jake the quiet he desired.

 _Great, now you blew it with gramps too_. It wasn't until the two entered the Great Hall for lunch that Jake was dragged back out of his thoughts by someone calling his name. He looked up habitually towards the Gryffindor table only to find the trio absent from their usual places.

"Over here, Jakeroo!" He followed the giggling voice to the opposite end of the table below the red banners where Fred was grinning broadly and beckoning him over. Curiosity trumping his discouragement, he wandered over and sat across from him to find the Weasley twins sitting beside them and leaning in closely.

"You're just in time my friend," George greeted him with a wicked grin, looking up to the head table where Umbridge sat sipping her soup with gentility. The torture of the horrid woman was one of the few things keeping Jake sane, and the memory of Nerk's last prank, which involved a well-timed application of Abominable Instant-Ice Waxing Solution to the Grand Staircase as she left her office for dinner two days ago, somehow managed to make him smile.

"Your yellow friend here let slip that you two were behind the Umbridge gags," Fred commented. Jake glared at Nerk, who simply gave a sheepish, guilty grin. "We _were_ a bit offended that you failed to include us in your schemes..."

"...but then again you probably didn't know about our reputation for these sorts of things," George premised, "otherwise you would have come to us in the first place!"

"Just wait, mate, you're gonna _love_ this," Nerk cackled.

"Don't leave me out of the loop like this, yo," Jake begged them. "Is it the Magic Stink Bombs? Don't tell me you broke out the Invisible Fleas already…" he guessed as Nerk continued to shake his head.

"Invisible Fleas?" both twins asked excitedly.

"Heaps of Magic Sneezing Salts…" Nerk answered with delight, quickly adding at Jake's disappointed look, "…with a bit of a bang."

"Fred here – no, the dragon you twit – showed us what you lot had," George began.

"And suffice it to say that we made a few _alterations_." Fred added.

"Look, look, here we go!" Nerk quieted them, watching gleefully as Professor Grubbly-Plank slipped past Umbridge's place, the latter wrinkling her nose in distaste and hastily spraying her tiny vial of perfume in the vicinity. Satisfied, she moved to grab her spoon but halted in the motion, inhaling sharply before giving a tremendous sneeze.

"Oh my, I…" she muttered, reaching for her handkerchief, before another bellowing sneeze shook her. This time, however, a stream of snot flew from her tiny nose. She gaped at it in horror until more sneezes exploded from her uncontrollably, the stream of boogers developing steadily into a river that flowed down her front as she fled from the hall to the amusement (and disgust) of watching students.

Jake was beside himself, along with his three accomplices, congratulating them, "Dawgs, that was off the heezy!"

"Er…we'll take that as a compliment," George answered bewildered.

"Oozing Odor is bound to be a hit, or Eau de Elephant, haven't quite got the marketing figured out yet," Fred flaunted.

Nerk wiped a tear from his eye, still heaving with laughter. "You've _got_ to tell me how you pulled off switching out her perfume bottles."

Fred wagged a dismissive finger at him, sipping a goblet of juice. "Ah ah ah, you 'ought to know better than ask for trade secrets." Nerk shrunk sadly and tore at a nearby leg of meat. George took the opportunity to nudge Jake in the shoulder and drop something small into his hand. The dragon looked down to find a golden coin that the wizards used for currency and was momentarily confused what exactly he was being paid for.

"To help you know when the you-know-what's are," Weasley told him quietly with a wink. "Hermione thought you should have one, but since you've been avoiding her like the plague…" he stopped as Jake abruptly turned away and stubbornly slammed the coin on the table.

"What's got your jocks in twist?" Nerk asked jokingly.

The twins responded before Jake could deflect the question. "Apparently our good-for-nothing younger brother and his friends had a row with Jake, here," Fred supplied.

"But you know what they say about gossip, gentlemen, it's one-third right and two-thirds wrong," George waved as they stood and left the hall with several students.

"Or was it the other way around?" Fred teased in the distance.

Jake watched them leave, biting back his irritation, while Nerk sat thoroughly confused. He was about to prompt Jake when the red dragon headed him off. "Down for more sparring tonight, Nerk?"

"Not again, mate," Nerk said exasperated. He rolled his eyes at Jake's expectant stare. "You've gotta be… _fine_ , but only because it's too much fun to pummel you senseless," he argued. They stood to leave, but Jake hesitated and stared down at the small yellow coin still resting on the table. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he noticed for the first time the dragon embossed on the face-up side of the wizard Galleons. Against his spiteful pride, he snatched up the metal piece and slipped it into a pocket in his cloak.

"Thanks, Nerk," he said sincerely as they left the hall. Practice fighting helped distract him, but it was the fact that he'd agreed to humor him when they both knew very well how small Nerk's chances of winning in hand-to-hand combat were that made Jake appreciative. Even after his new friends had turned against him, Nerk was still there.

_Maybe I'll let him win…just one time…_

* * *

Feathers covered the torn cushions, books lay scattered, and scorch marks pocked the walls in every direction.

It was one of the most wonderful things Harry had ever seen.

Another successful D.A. meeting was coming to an end while the students meandered throughout the room, cleaning themselves off and collecting their things as they prepared to sneak away back to their dormitories. Ron was busy talking with Dean and Neville while Hermione sat solemnly in a corner with a book in her lap, rolling a crumpled bit of paper in her fingers. Harry had a fair idea what was on her mind as he walked towards her, surprised when Hermione spoke first as he sat beside her.

"Maybe he doesn't know how to use the Galleon," she thought aloud.

"Maybe," he answered half-heartedly, pulling out the Marauder's Map to scout for any witnesses in the halls. The first he found was Umbridge, sitting at her desk in her office. "He might be busy, too."

"Right…dragon stuff," she laughed nervously. Harry's eyes scanned the folds and creases of the aged parchment until he found Filch, hobbling down a corridor on the second floor. "Who am I kidding, he can't stand to be anywhere near us..."

"Well, what'd you expect after what happened? He'd be all chummy with us like before?" Ron asked sarcastically as he joined them and offered a hand to help Hermione up. She instead stood on her own and gave him a filthy glare. The black marks swept along the map as Harry found another worrisome target, Mrs. Norris, wandering in the dungeons below the castle. "What, I'm just saying maybe we should've…"

"Are you ready, Harry?" Hermione asked shortly, turning her back on Ron and waiting for Harry to stand.

"Yeah. Filch, Umbridge, and Norris are all off," he said as he got to his feet. "We should be fine if everyone…what?" A black dot had appeared at the end of the hall just outside their room, but it appeared faded, as though made of aged ink. Stranger still, where there should have been a name above the dot sat an unintelligible scribble.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, her curiosity burning.

"What do you suppose this is?" he said, showing her and Ron the strange new dot as it edged a little farther into the corridor. As they watched, the dot grew slightly more solid and the scribble rearranged into fuzzy letters that spelled _The Dragon_.

"Woah, let me see," Ron demanded as he grabbed the parchment. The name morphed and changed, now reading _Red_. Understanding slowly illuminated his face. "You don't think…"

"Give it here." Hermione roughly grabbed it now and watched as the lettering scattered and condensed once more. " _Norbert Jr._ " she whispered. The dot encroached further still into the hallway, the owner apparently uncertain of their destination. She shoved the map back into Harry's hands and hurried towards the door to the room, but other students had already begun to leave. Harry looked down at the map and watched the first dots appear in the hallway where the entrance to their room should be, the faded dot at the end of the corridor immediately racing away and escaping down a couple of floors before disappearing entirely from the map.

"That had to be Jake," Ron offered, Harry responding with a nod. He watched the map as the students returned to their dormitories, flocking past Hermione's mark as it stood by the Grand Staircase for a while before finally moving back towards the Room of Requirement. When she stepped beyond the threshold of the entrance, Harry could see the flustered disappointment painted across her face.

"Where did he go?" she asked fruitlessly.

"No idea," Harry admitted. Hermione rolled her head back in frustration, but Harry had other preoccupations on his mind. "We never did use the Marauder's Map to see the dragons before. Remus told me that it's never wrong, so why did Jake not show up like everyone else?"

"Nothing's perfect, Harry," she said in her lecturing voice, which to Harry's pleasure helped ease her nerves somewhat. "It wasn't necessarily _wrong_ , either, it just wasn't entirely _right_." She grabbed her bag up from where she'd abandoned it on the floor during her chase and slung it over her shoulder, the two boys following as she left the trashed room, the crumpled paper returned to her fiddling fingers. They stepped out into the hallway and headed for Gryffindor Tower, the door to the Room of Requirement melting back into a flat stone wall behind them.

"And if I had to guess, I'd say the map was confounded. Not by an actual _Confundus_ charm, mind you, but probably something similar given that the dragons are naturally resistant to magic." She laughed dryly before huffing, "They really are brilliant at hiding from us…" Harry and Ron simply listened and nodded along in turn, having no arguments to her theories. By the time they reclaimed their seats in front of the fire in their common room, Hermione had regained some of her composure and returned to her standard levels of worry-filled anxiety, enchanting her needles to knit more clothing while the boys poured over their homework.

Despite the turmoil brought by the sudden upheaval of their friendship with Jake, leading the D.A. meetings and watching as his friends slowly became more and more adept at defensive magic filled Harry with satisfaction and triumphant valor. He felt impervious to anything that the school could throw at him, even Umbridge's foul behavior (which only seemed to escalate as the various antics against her grew more involved and complex).

The limits of his optimism were tested, however, as their first Quidditch match of the season against Slytherin drew ever closer. Even Harry's stoicism was beginning to falter between Ron's frequent panic attacks, the terrible weather conditions during practices, and students from the two houses openly jinxing each other in passing between classes.

"I'll just tell Johnson that I'm quitting before tomorrow, that's plenty of time to find someone else better at Keeping," Ron squealed as they passed a group of heckling Slytherins. "Not that it'd be hard, any Frankie First Year could probably…"

Harry halted sternly and pivoted to confront him. "Ron, you aren't quitting. You're a great Keeper and you'll do fine tomorrow if you can just _get a grip_." His tall friend's continued sullen attitude only served to infuriate him. "You're being thick. You've been doing fine at practices, and this isn't your first game either. You were great when we played the dragons!" His arguments fell on deaf ears and Harry was on the verge of thumping him when a towering red dragon walked past the intersection at the far end of the corridor over Ron's shoulder. Harry stalled, inspiration striking him like lighting.

"Go meet up with Hermione, I forgot something in Charms," he lied, brushing by Ron as he hurried to catch up with Jake. Given his size, the dragon was surprisingly hard to find amidst the crowd of students and Harry was barely in arm's reach as Jake paused to undo his cloak and prepare for flight just outside the doorway of the castle. Harry accidentally stepped on Jake's tail in his rush as it unexpectedly uncurled from beneath his cloak, recoiling as the dragon reared in pain. Jake rounded on him as he was thrown off balance and sent crashing to the ground.

"Step off, yo! What's the big…oh." Jake paused, watching Harry struggle to his feet, rubbing the spot where his head hit the floor and moaning in pain.

"Ouch…Jake, it's me, Harry…"

"You don't say."

"Right…" The two stood there uncomfortably, Harry focusing on his new contusion and forgetting his purpose until Jake moved to take flight once more. "Wait, Jake!"

The dragon lowered his wings and groaned impatiently, "What? I've got places to be, dawg, so if we can take a rain check…"

"Are you going to the Quidditch match tomorrow?"

That got his attention. Jake turned fully back to Harry, genuinely confused. "Say what now?"

"It's the first Quidditch match of the season, between Gryffindor and Slytherin," he explained in an uncertain babble. "I was just…er…wondering if you were coming?"

Jake looked incredulous. "Considering the last time we were down at the pitch Fred ended up a smear on the grass, I hadn't really planned on it, no."

 _Damn, I forgot about that_. "But you won't be playing! Just having you there to support us would do loads to…"

"Yo, Harry, y'all don't need help from dragons to win a sports game. I'm sure you'll be fine." Jake took a step backward and looked at him sadly before starting to turn away once again.

"I'm not asking the American Dragon, I'm asking Jake!" Harry called desperately. He watched carefully as Jake stood still, refusing to look back at Harry but also not leaving altogether. Harry took his continued silence as a cue to keep talking. "Ron's a mess. He can hardly stay on his broom, and you can forget about catching a Quaffle. He hasn't been the same without you there to help him."

Jake didn't budge, so Harry plowed on. "And it's not just Quidditch, Jake, Hermione's been miserable for weeks." The very mention of Hermione's name made the dragon twitch, which Harry thought peculiar. Was he that upset with her? "You know her, Jake. Lately she hasn't bothered answering questions, scolding us, or correcting anyone. She even got an A on her last Potions essay. An _A_ …from _Hermione_."

His head angled closer to him, but Jake still remained planted. _Man he's stubborn_. "Honestly, Jake, between the two of them I'm going mad, not to mention that you were the only relief I had. I never would have lasted this long around Umbridge without you. You're our best mate, and a good person, and…well…"

They both stood quietly for a moment. "Did you mean that?"

Harry wasn't sure how to answer, feeling a bit embarrassed about the end of his speech. "Er, which part again?"

Jake chuckled and turned to face him fully. "You said I was your guys' 'best mate'. Did you mean that?"

"Course I did," Harry answered, smiling. "Ron wouldn't be wetting himself right now if it weren't true." Jake laughed at that, a contagious sound that Harry couldn't help but share in. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the dragon himself. It didn't seem reasonable for a friendship of this degree to be fostered in barely two months, but there was no denying that the feeling was mutual as he took in the joy beaming from Jake's own features.

"I'll be there," Jake said. Harry gave him a quizzical look, so he clarified with an eye roll, " _For Quidditch_ , I'll be there tomorrow. No way I'm letting Ron make a fool of himself out there."

"Why wait? We'll see you at dinner tonight, right?"

Jake was back to looking genuinely depressed. "Can't, G's got me running patrols tonight." A thought occurred to him. "How 'bout we meet halfway? Breakfast, tomorrow, deal?"

Harry grinned. "Deal," he promised, the two sealing it with a fist bump. Without another word, Jake leapt into the air and soared off. Harry followed suit with a jog down the hall, setting out to find Ron and Hermione. Deciding to let Jake surprise them, he kept quiet about their deal all through the night and worked with unnatural happiness, much to Ron's chagrin. He lead them down to the Great Hall the following morning, feeling absolutely confident and ready to finally mend the damage done weeks previously by their ill-conceived schemes.

He was met instead with disappointment as neither horn nor tail of any of the dragons was found in the Great Hall, greeted only by a rampant student body and a cloudy sky above them. Ron cringed at the throng of soon-to-be spectators, his face paling and red hair thrown into sharp relief.

"I think I'm gonna be sick…"

* * *

"If we could beat them, Jake, they can't be _that_ good. My bet's on Slytherin," Fred called over the rushing wind as they soared over the Forbidden Forest. It was the last stop on their usual morning surveillance, not that they ever actually 'surveyed' anything at this point. The trees were so thick and closely packed that anything below the leaved branches was completely hidden, but the Dragon Masters insisted that they scout it regardless.

"You must have cracked your dome harder than I thought if you think they're gonna lose to those whacked out jerks," Jake yelled back. They cleared the forest at last and glided over the lake, landing softly at the entrance to the Den and walking down the first winding tunnel.

"No need to have a go, mate. If it means you're done being a pruned little killjoy, you go ahead and think whatever you want," Fred teased. They turned the last corner to find the others already gathered around their meeting table, watching them with cold, forlorn stares as they approached.

"Woah, take the party down a notch or y'all are gonna blow the roof off this place," Jake jibed sarcastically. None of them so much as blinked. "Okay, well…it was the same as always, G, nothing fishy going on. Let's go grab some breakfast, The Am-Drag's starving over here."

"Not today, young dragon," Lao Shi responded sadly, holding up an opened letter in his hand for them to see. "We've received orders from the Dragon Council. We are to gather our things and return to the Isle of Draco immediately for debriefing before going back home."

Jake had a gut feeling about what was coming long before Lao Shi said the words, but they still managed to hit him like a brick wall. "But…but Gramps, we…"

"There is no arguing this time, Jake," his grandfather warned him, his voice laden with seriousness. "The Dark Dragon has made several attacks on key cities throughout the world over the past couple of days. Last night he struck Sydney…" Jake spun around to see Fred, who stood in shock with his mouth sagging open. "Fred's replacement, the backup Vietnamese Dragon, was injured in the assault. Fred and Dominic are needed back home, Jake," he said carefully at his student's swelling desperation, "and so are we. The Dragon Council strongly believes that his next target will be New York City."

"But Greggy…" Jake begged.

"…cannot succeed alone," Sun finished gently. "We thought the Dark Dragon would focus on us as long as we stayed here, Jake. We were wrong."

"He's just trying to make us leave by going after our territories!" he argued.

"And it worked, kid," Dominic said. "Plot or no plot, we can't stay. You know that."

He looked to his grandfather meekly. Lao Shi merely shared his remorse and dropped his shoulders with a sigh. "We leave in an hour, Jake." With that, they all stood and left for their rooms, leaving Jake and Fred alone in the chamber. No matter what angle he took or reasoning he thought of, nothing was more important for the American Dragon than guarding his home. They were going to have to leave Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry, Jake," Fred consoled him, his voice shuddering distinctly. "Don't get banged up, mate, it's not over. We'll make him pay." Jake looked to see his friend's eyes overflowing with rage but was too consumed with grief to return the sentiment and settled instead for shuffling off to his own room. Preparing for their travel took little effort with all of his belongings fitting easily into two duffle bags. He slung them over his shoulders and walked back to the central chamber to wait for the others. As he dropped one on the floor, echoes of cheering and applause travelled into the rotunda and reminded him of one crucial detail.

He still had to say goodbye.

Before he knew it he was approaching the pitch, and Jake could see the players darting through the air on their brooms while the voice of the same announcer that had cast their own match boomed out through the air. The stands were filled to bursting and Jake's eyes swept keenly over the ocean of Gryffindor students, but between their sheer numbers and the fact that they refused to sit still made it impossible for him to find Hermione. One person that was very easy to find, however, was Professor Dumbledore, who sat in his usual vibrant violet robes at the top of one of the spectator towers with the other staff members. _I wonder if Gramps told him already…_

"Professor Dumbledore!" The teachers all looked up, several of them shuffling aside as the red dragon landed roughly amongst the benches and approached the Headmaster.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you could make it for the match before your trip, Jake," the old wizard sullenly greeted the dragon, who seemed rather preoccupied as he scanned the crowded Gryffindors over the railing of the deck.

"So gramps already told you?" he asked, failing to conceal any of his lingering frustration.

Dumbledore looked sincerely regretful as he admitted, "Indeed he has, but know that Hogwarts will miss you all terribly and welcome you with open arms should you ever wish to return." Jake nodded sadly and gave a small sigh in defeat, looking up now despondently at the sky. "You may also want to try looking by Ms. Lovegood. I believe she is in the far seats with the roaring lion hat."

Jake looked back at him just in time to see his twinkling eyes give him a knowing look. Given the growing impatience of the other professors, Jake spared his thanks and took off, quickly finding the silver blonde girl with the terrifying headpiece, and next to her…

_Hermione._

Ignoring the singing Slytherins and groaning Gryffindors, Jake landed at the rear of the stands and pushed his way through the crowd to where the two girls stood at the railing, watching the match before them. He slipped his hand out from beneath his cloak and rested it lightly on Hermione's shoulder, reveling in the astonished glee that crossed her face when she turned and found him.

"Hey there."

"Hey yourself," she answered. He had no idea where to start explaining his departure when she burst out with apologies. "I'm so sorry Jake, I lied to you and didn't trust you and…"

"No, Hermione, I'm sorry," he cut her off. "I was trippin' hard with y'all before, and that wasn't fair. You were…you _are_ the best friends a dragon could ask for. Forgive me?"

Without hesitation, she flung her arms around him in a tight hug. The gesture filled him with that familiar, intoxicating warmth. "Well, only because you asked so nicely," she choked. Against his better judgment, Jake embraced her as well and bent his head down to rest his chin over her curled hair.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked in a low voice, looking at the one duffel bag still slung over Jake's shoulder. He'd forgotten the rest of the world for that brief moment, but her question jerked him back into reality, the fresh reminder renewing every ounce of his displeasure.

"The Dark Dragon attacked Australia," he answered quietly. "Fred has to go back…we all have to go back."

Hermione let go, bravely holding on to her shaky smile. "A-alright…" she stammered. "That's perfectly fine! You've taken care of him before; it 'ought to be a breeze this time. And when that's done, you can all come back," she explained as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

The crowd cheered and hollered, but it sounded impossibly far away. Jake tried to say with as much patience and understanding as possible, "Hermione, it's not that easy…"

"Don't…" she stopped him, "…don't give up, Jake. Please…be safe. For us, and for Haley, too." A genuine smile flickered past her lips. "She's far too young to have to be the American Dragon."

Jake barked a laugh and pulled the small Galleon out from a pocket in his cloak, handing it to Hermione. "Only if you promise to watch out for Harry and Ron, they'll run the defense group into the gutter without you."

She shook her head and folded the coin back into his claws. "Keep it. How else will you find us when you come back?" Jake wasn't sure he'd be able to get much else past the thick lump in his throat, but was saved from their last farewells by the sudden uproar of the crowd, loud enough to reach even them and turn their attention back to the pitch.

" _AND POTTER'S GOT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!_ " The Gryffindor spectators were uncontrollable as Harry flaunted the captured Snitch in his grasp. A Bludger from one of the Slytherin Beaters came from behind to slam into his back, throwing him off of his broom to crash on the ground while the audience let out a collective _Ooohh_. His teammates were quickly helping him to his feet while the Malfoy boy landed nearby and threw bald insults at them out of spite.

Avoiding goodbyes, Jake left Hermione and flew down to the field as the Slytherin boy's taunts grew more aggravated. The referee was far above them in the air, scolding the Beater that had sent the unnecessary Bludger, and was completely oblivious as the twins both struggled to break free of their teammates' restraints. Malfoy was laughing absurdly at the scene, Jake hurrying his pace for fear of what was soon to follow.

* * *

Harry hadn't been granting Malfoy enough attention to understand most of his abuse, yet some part must have cared enough to hear him anyway. There was no other reason he'd have released George and joined him in his mad sprint to beat Malfoy to a bloody pulp. They were nearly on him, fists reared back in preparation, when a huge figure slammed into both of them, knocking them to the grass and pressing them forcefully against the dirt.

Malfoy only leered more relentlessly as Harry and George were both lifted into the air, each one locked in place by a thick scaled arm. "And here's your little pet, too! Right on schedule, of course, can't have Potter about without his filthy little half-breed gecko getting in the way…"

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much, Mal- _freak_?" Jake snapped his fingers, intending to silence the boy, and immediately dropped both of his captives to the ground as they all stared at the now nude Draco Malfoy. "Oops," was all he managed before he, Harry, and George all descended into wild laughter, mirrored by the majority of the spectators still present in the stands. Malfoy blushed brilliantly beneath his silver hair as he grabbed his broom for cover, racing to the nearest exit portal with distinctly feminine cries.

"That was _fantastic_ ," Fred cackled as the other Gryffindor players joined them, all sporting equally broad smiles.

"I _totally_ didn't mean to do that, but I'm so glad I did," Jake chortled.

Harry brushed the dirt off of his robes while George added, "That slimy little worm had it coming, though, didn't he? If I got my hands on him, I…"

" _Incarcerus!_ " Thick ropes wound around Jake's torso, snaring his arms and wings and tightening around him painfully. Everyone turned in surprise to see Umbridge just yards away, approaching at a brisk pace on her stubby legs with her short wand trained on the dragon. For the first time, Jake actually looked worried by the small woman as she came to a stop in front of him with an expression of ravenous pleasure.

"Yo, Professor Umbridge, at least take me out to dinner first," Jake joked with troubled breaths.

"You think you're funny, do you?" she accused in her girlish voice. "You think I didn't know it was you creatures behind all of those 'mishaps' and 'accidents'? I may not have been able to prove those, but the entire school just watched you viciously attack innocent students. You even had the nerve to use _magic_ on one…"

"Because Malfoy was insulting him! He egged us all on, of course…" Harry defended Jake hotly.

"I hope you've enjoyed your stay at Hogwarts," she spoke over him, "because I can promise you that Cornelius will have you removed posthaste when he hears just how wild and dangerous all of you savage," she stepped closer, "disgusting," another step, " _mongrels_ are!"

Jake stared at her blankly before roaring with laughter, though Harry was far from sharing in the humor. Umbridge's eyes bulged as Jake looked back down at her and growled, "Lady, you should learn how to pick your fights." In one fluid motion, his claws flashed upward and out, leaving the ropes lying limp beside him with neatly sheared ends. He flexed his limbs intimidatingly while Umbridge skittered backward, her wand shaking. Jake took a single, menacing step toward her when a bolt of red energy flew from her wand, striking him squarely in the chest. Umbridge watched in horror as it fizzled against his scales, completely ineffective.

"That almost tickled," he said idly. "You know, where I come from we don't let whackjobs play with guns." He made a flicking motion with two fingers and grinned as the stubby wand flew from her grip. Whether she gaped at him out of fury or terror was anyone's guess. "But you know, I think you're on to something," he breathed while edging in closer, Umbridge leaning away from the smoke leaking from his maw and falling back onto her bottom. "I guess I am pretty _wild_ and _dangerous_."

"We are running late, Jake!" The sound of Lao Shi's voice followed by the sight of the other dragons all hovering in the air above them was an immense relief for Harry. Jake looked up and groaned in annoyance, clearly not appreciating the interruption.

"Just a couple more minutes, G!" he called back. His Dragon Master crossed his arms with impatience. "Ugh, _fine!_ " Jake abandoned his toy and walked towards the Gryffindor team. He snatched his dropped duffel bag as he went and came to a stop in front of Harry and Ron, as jovial as though it were any ordinary Saturday afternoon.

"It's been real, guys, but we've gotta split, for good this time." He paused for a moment and glanced briefly to the stands where Luna's lion hat continued to roar before continuing, "I'm sorry for what happened in the bathroom...and I'm gonna miss you guys." He raised his clenched fist to them. "Friends for life," he said in a tone of unnerving finality, the two of them returning it uncomprehending.

"Wait, Jake, I don't…" Ron stuttered, but the dragon was already in the air and flying to meet the others. Haley handed him a second duffel bag, which he slung over his other shoulder as they began to soar away.

"Good luck, y'all! Holla!" he shouted back to them, the troupe of dragons flying off into the distance and shrinking into tiny specks before disappearing altogether.

Everyone looked to Harry as though waiting for a translation for what had just happened, but he stood silent, lost for words and beyond perplexed. "What do we do, Harry?" Ron asked him in shock. The seats were emptying, a livid McGonagall was approaching swiftly, and his captured Snitch zoomed around his head in a dizzying blur, but Harry could only gaze unseeing at the horizon, willing the dragons to return, revealing their sudden departure to be an elaborate prank or some drastic misunderstanding.

They did not return, however, and before long even the specks had faded into the cloudy distance. He helplessly turned to Ron in defeat, an overwhelming, sinking sensation drowning his mind as he realized that the Dragons of Draco Isle were gone forever.

"I don't know."


	19. One Step Back

The world rarely seemed so drab and bleak to Harry, and it wasn't because of the dingy conditions of the Quidditch pitch changing rooms. The Gryffindor team sat inside on old creaking benches, digging through lockers and quietly killing time as they waited for Professor McGonagall to finally arrive. After their Head of House had commanded them to wait for her in the dim room while she dealt with the fiasco outside, Johnson had tried valiantly to spark conversations and ease their tensions. The cold responses, however, particularly from Harry, decidedly ended her attempts and resulted in the awkward silence they now all shared.

The footsteps and voices of retreating spectators had long since died when the Transfiguration instructor at last joined them, throwing aside the burlap curtains as she marched inside and tearing the red and yellow striped scarf from her neck. To his unsurprised dismay, Harry and George were the first ones found by her furious eyes.

"Explain yourselves." Harry had never known a voice that quiet sound so dangerous.

"Malfoy was having a go at our families and Harry's mum." George answered without a hint of remorse.

"I don't care if he insulted everyone you've ever known, Mr. Weasley, there is no excuse for yours and Mr. Potter's appalling muggle behavior!" she retorted with a look of sincere disgust.

"But Professor, we didn't put a finger on him!" Harry begged.

"Because the dragon was misguided enough to intervene," she simmered, the rage behind her eyes threatening to overflow at any moment.

"His name is _Jake_ …professor," Harry corrected her indignantly, quickly adding more formality at her deathly glare.

" _Jake_ was a fool." The ice in her voice reached Harry's very core. "Even though they were already intending to leave, they will never return to Hogwarts now that Professor Umbridge has all the cause she needs to vindicate them until the end of time." Harry noticed she struggled greatly mentioning the toad's name through clenched teeth. "All of this because you could not manage to control your tempers for even a _moment_."

"But Professor…" McGonagall raised a hand to stop Fred.

"I'm not finished, Mr. Weasley," she continued, raising a rolled piece of parchment in her hand. "The _High Inquisitor_ ," again, she hissed the name with a tight jaw, "insisted I inform you that she now has direct control over student punishments and has banned you three," she pointed with the parchment at the Weasley twins and Harry, "from participating in Quidditch."

And then the room erupted with deafening shouts, Professor McGonagall unflinching and immovable in the center of it all.

"Professor, that's ridiculous!" Johnson pleaded desperately.

"She can't just do that!" Katie cried.

"It was the Slytherins' fault to begin with!" Alicia argued.

"It's bloody unfair!" The twins yelled in unison. Beside them, Ron paled markedly and looked on the verge of vomiting. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes in irritation before raising her flat palm into the air, the action rounding them all back into unified silence.

"Professor McGonagall," Harry pleaded, feeling as though he were sinking into an icy lake, "you can't let her get away with this…maybe Professor Dumbledore…"

"The decision is final, Mr. Potter, and you have only yourselves to blame," she answered, as upset as any of them with the outcome and turning to leave the room.

The pitch was completely abandoned and the afternoon well underway by the time the Gryffindor team slunk out of the changing rooms, Professor McGonagall at the front and stomping off ahead to the castle. A light snow had begun to fall and the fields around them already had a light dusting of powder as they crunched up the hill, all of them refusing to speak until Ron nudged Harry as they neared the castle doors.

"Leave it, Ron," Harry responded testily.

"No, Harry, look," Ron said softly.

"What?" He turned back to see his friend looking in the distance towards the Forbidden Forest. Following his gaze, Harry found Hagrid's Hut with a small curl of black smoke swirling from its long dormant chimney. Without a word, both of them charged down the lawns until they were almost at his doorstep. Harry noticed a trail of footsteps that mimicked their own path, fading slowly as snow continued to fall and slowly burry them.

"Someone else is here," Harry muttered, the two of them slowly climbing the steps to the front door.

"D'you think we should still go in?" Ron asked carefully. Before Harry could answer, the door swung open and a booming voice greeted them both.

"Well don' just stand there, you'll freeze ter death!" The two of them grinned at the sound of Hagrid's voice, but quickly blanched as they looked up and found his mutilated face, covered in cuts and bruises with his thick beard crusted in what looked like copious amounts of dried blood.

"Hagrid, your face!" Harry yelled, stopping as he and Ron were roughly shoved inside by his massive hands.

"Go on, get in then," he ushered them. "I was wonderin' when you two'd show up, Hermione beat you by a long shot." As he said her name, they both saw her seated at his giant table with her head raised to watch them enter, a large mug resting beside her while she toyed with her fake Galleon.

"There you are," she welcomed them flatly.

"When'd you get here?" Ron asked, walking over to take up a chair as well.

"Hermione got here right after the match. Bloody quick, she was. What kept you lot?" Hagrid addressed them, placing a mug in front of each of them and setting his kettle on the stove. He pulled his own large chair out from the table and dropped into it, slapping an enormous slice of meat over his swollen eye. Harry didn't have the courage to ask what it was or why it dripped with thick green blood.

"That's right, what did McGonagall say?" Hermione asked , now significantly more animated.

Both of them immediately grimaced with distaste, Ron finding the strength to answer her first. "McGonagall was furious, but Umbridge was the real problem. She's banned Harry, Fred, and George from playing."

"That's outrageous! Only the Heads of House or the Headmaster can punish students like that!" Hermione scoffed .

Harry shook his head sadly. "Apparently she's got another Educational Decree for it, and McGonagall said she's bound to ban the dragons from coming back too."

"From coming back?" Hagrid copied him. "You mean they've already gone?"

"Yeah, they had to leave for something. Jake was already packed by the time he showed up," Harry explained.

"Blimey, well tha's just great," Hagrid jeered, tossing his hands in the air, blood from his odd steak pattering around the room. "Now where'm I supposed to get help with…er…" The others watched him give them careful looks, stopping his thought short and grumbling to himself. "I just would've like to have met 'em is all. Terribly misunderstood creatures, dragons…"

"You think they were tired of watching us?" Ron worried. Hermione's unspoken answer died as Harry replied first.

"No idea. He said he'd join us this morning before the game, but none of them showed for breakfast."

"And when did he say that?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Well, I talked with him yesterday to sort of apologize, and he said he'd come to the match…but I wanted it to be a surprise!" he tried to explain as Hermione looked increasingly betrayed.

"That would have been nice to know _before_ the game, I might've at least played remotely decent," Ron complained.

"We won, didn't we?" Harry shot back, though it did little to dull Ron's glare. He sighed with frustration and conceded, "Not that it matters. We've got no Seeker, no Beaters, and no dragons."

"They left because the Dark Dragon attacked their countries," Hermione finally answered in a wispy tone, gazing out of the window and rolling the coin in her fingers. Hagrid sat with a puzzled look, but Ron and Harry watched her in surprise as she turned back to them solemnly. "Jake told me before you caught the Snitch. He said that they had to go home and deal with him, and he promised they'd come back. But now…with Umbridge…"

None of them spoke for a bit, sitting in the quiet of the hut until Hagrid's kettle began to whistle and the half-giant jumped up to pour their tea. Seeing him in a fresh light reminded Harry of another question that still burned in the back of his mind.

"Hagrid, where have you been? And what happened to your…you know…" he asked carefully, pointing at his own cheeks.

Hagrid quickly straightened from pouring into Ron's cup, steaming water flying from the spout of the kettle and splashing onto the unsuspecting ginger. He cried out in pain, trying to brush off the burning liquid as the Gamekeeper answered in a practiced fashion, "Nowhere, I was on vacation."

Hermione sighed loudly. "Hagrid, you've already told me. I'll just tell them if you don't."

Hagrid cast a spiteful look at her. "Right, o'course…you lot are too nosy for yur own good, you know that?" They all gave accepting nods, and he rolled his eyes before continuing, "Fine then, I was…"

Loud rapping sounded from Hagrid's front door. They all froze and watched as he set his kettle back down on the stove and approached the wooden slab, gruffly yanking it open. The three of them shuddered at the sight of Professor Umbridge waiting expectantly on his steps.

"Hello…er…" he greeted automatically, confused at first by the apparent lack of any visitor until he looked nearly straight down to find the tiny woman. "Oh, there ya' are. Who are you?"

Her face was devoid of any emotion. "Dolores Umbridge, Hogwarts High Inquisitor and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. I presume that you are Rubeus Hagrid?" She didn't wait for a response before stepping beside him and entering the small hut, her eyes squinting as she saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione seated at the table. "And what are you three doing here?"

"They're my guests," Hagrid answered at the same time that Hermione responded, "We're visiting Hagrid." Umbridge looked between them, curious at their hasty replies.

"I see," she said shortly, turning to look at Harry while her fake little smile appeared and pulled at her cheeks. "I trust that Minerva informed you of the consequences for your behavior?"

Harry felt the heat rush to his head and drew malevolent satisfaction at the sight of her disheveled hair, along with the grass stains and dirt still caked on parts of her clothing from her 'talk' with Jake. "Yes, she did, thank you _Professor_."

"I think it's time for us to leave, Harry," Hermione said, quickly standing and motioning for them to follow her. It took Harry a moment to tear his hateful stare away from Umbridge as he rose to meet them at the door. "Thank you very much for the tea, Hagrid, we'll see you in class Tuesday." Without another word, she pulled Harry and Ron outside with her, pulling the front door closed behind them as Umbridge's voice chased them out in a disgusted tone, " _What happened to your face_?"

The three of them briskly walked back up to the castle, the afternoon light fading fast and the snow still steadily building around them. "What was that for, Hermione?" Harry complained. She sighed in exasperation and gave him a disappointed look.

"Because knowing her, she'd push you until you retaliated. We've already lost half the Quidditch team and the Dragons of Draco Isle, Harry, the last thing we need is to have our D.A. teacher trapped in detention." His neck started burning at being called a 'teacher', the term feeling so respectful and beyond his stature.

They all passed through the doors of the castle, the melting snow on their boots squelching beneath them. "So are you gonna tell us about Hagrid or what?" Ron asked

She looked over her shoulder and around the corners to make sure there weren't any curious onlookers before she answered, "It was what we thought. He went to parlay with the giants somewhere in France, trying to convince them to join Dumbledore against You-Know-Who."

"I'm guessing from his face that they weren't all that convinced," Ron said sarcastically.

"Actually, he said things were going well at first," Hermione answered half-heartedly. "It took a turn, though. In the end, he couldn't get any of them to join, but he said he'd left without a fight."

Harry didn't buy it. "That's a little hard to believe, Hermione, he looks like he went and cuddled with the Whomping Willow." They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and waited for her to fully swing forward before stepping into the round hole beyond one at a time.

"It is rather strange…and he was acting very defensive any time I brought it up," Hermione thought aloud. "I feel like there's something else he's not telling us." The common room on the other side was a sad sight. Decorations were scattered about, half hung in celebration, while the students inside filled the furniture with crossed arms and disappointed faces. When any of them looked at Harry, it was with anger and distrust.

Word travelled through Hogwarts much more quickly than Harry would have ever liked, and it was clear that all the Gryffindors likely knew of Umbridge's most recent decree. He briskly walked through the room and escaped up into his dormitory.

"Harry!" Ron called after him as he hurried into their room. He promptly sat on his four-poster, unsure of what to do with himself as Ron entered after him. "You alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm brilli-AAAHHH!" Searing pain was engulfing his head, his hands clawing at his scar. Wild cackling was filling the air far off in the distance, and he realized as he slowly opened his eyes that tears were streaming down his face.

"Harry! HARRY!" Ron's voice guided him back to reality. He slowly sat up, the pain in his scar dulling to a steady throb, and dragged himself back to lean on his pillows. He tried to calm his labored breathing while Ron fretted over him. "C'mon Harry, say something! Was it You-Know-Who again?"

"Yeah, I…I think so." He set his glasses aside and wiped off his face, still carefully rubbing his scar. "Something's happened. I don't know what, but he's happy… _really_ happy." Ron simply watched him with worry, completely powerless to help him through his pain. A deep sense of foreboding ate away at Harry, one that surpassed even his discomfort during the Hogsmeade attack. He did his best to ignore it as the evening dragged on and he recovered, even managing to lose himself that night to the familiar dream of the black corridor with the ebony door at the end that, as always, was just barely out of reach.

Yet over the following days his apprehensions failed to subside and his chest ached with uncertainty and fear. One thing that he was sure of more than anything, however, was the importance of the D.A. meetings. If (or rather when) something like the dark shades attacked again, they would all need to be prepared. They'd only barely managed to escape before, and that had been with the help of their reptilian guardians.

But now…well, now they were on their own.

* * *

New York City had an enormous park complete with plenty of secluded spots perfect for hidden workouts and training. It also had several guarded rooftops high above passerby and away from prying eyes that were equally suited to the task. Gregory couldn't help but wonder, then, as he stepped backward into yet another foul, congealing puddle of who-knows-what, exactly why Natalya insisted on conducting their exercises in the single most disgusting abandoned warehouse he'd ever had the misfortune to step inside.

"Again!" she yelled, pulling hard on one of the several thick iron chains that dangled from the rusted rafters. It clanged loudly, winding around a beam above as a few sheets of thin metal, impaled and dangling from industrial hooks, swung lazily into Gregory's line of fire. Bracing himself and inhaling deeply, he took aim and hurled a fireball at each. The sheets rattled at the impacts and sported new black scorch marks as each attack found its mark. Gregory, reveling in his accuracy, allowed himself a victorious smile.

Natalya, on the other hand, scowled in frustration before gruffly tossing the chain down and stomping toward her student. Even though they'd been paired as student and master ever since he first developed his dragon abilities, Gregory was still intimidated by Natalya on a daily basis. It was hard _not_ to be; the second reserve Russian Dragon was a fierce warrior and an even fiercer teacher. She stood tall, a stone gray beast with onyx-black spikes forming ridges on her skull and back with similarly black, varicose-like lines erratically crossing her scales. The patterning made Natalya look as though she were literally made of granite, as if her unbending personality weren't enough.

As she approached, Natalya tore one of the metal sheets roughly off of its hook. She came to a stop in front of her fern green and brown striped student, holding the target out for him to see.

"This is all?" she chided him in her thick Russian accent. "It is cold as ice. How many times I have told you: more breath, tight throat, more force! You will never make strong fire with lazy technique!"

"We've been at it for hours, Nat…" he griped.

"Do not call me that," she said habitually, as she did every time Gregory used the nickname.

"I'm really trying here, you know that!"

"No, _trying_ is doing as your Dragon Master tells you." She gripped his arm and dragged him forward to face one of the still hanging metal sheets. "Again, more breathe," she patted his stomach and waited for him to grudgingly take a deep breathe. "Tight _throat_ ," he gave a strangled squeal as her clawed hand flew out and caught his neck in a crushing grip. "And more _FORCE_!" Her free arm slung around his torso and her choking hand aiming his head, she squeezed his body with extraordinary strength like an oversized, winged bagpipe.

A plume of bright, searing fire roared out and engulfed the metal, quickly turning it into molten slag that oozed to the floor. Satisfied, Natalya relinquished her pupil, who fell choking and gagging on his knees. She walked forward to stand by what had once been the metal target and, gesturing to the liquefied mess, lectured, "Proper technique makes proper results. You have strength, Gregory, but lack confidence. Dragons cannot hold back, cannot let fear stop them."

Gregory continued to heave, his mouth burning and eyes wide with shock (which wasn't entirely deserved, 'hands on' teaching was a staple for Natalya). The sound of her yelling in pain made him lift his head, however, and quickly rise to his feet as dark shapes appeared all around them, filling the spacious warehouse. His master lay pinned to the ground near the slag pile by a large, dark purple dragon with trailing whiskers and flaring eyebrows, its tail coiled around Natalya and slowly strangling her.

"Well if fear will not stop you, then allow me the pleasure," the dragon Gregory didn't recognize sneered, her voice sinister and lethal. The shadows around the room stood vigil as she dragged Natalya to the side, her face coming within inches of the molten metal while she struggled desperately to wrestle free of her captor.

"Back off!" Gregory yelled. He often had difficulty finding the motivation to fight, considering 'responsibilities' or the 'the greater good' weak arguments and instead convincing himself with the promise of admiration and respect. Now, however, he was filled with nothing but the burning desire to rescue his Dragon Master as he lunged toward their intruder, who laughed dryly in return and waved a lazy hand in his direction. Several of the shades surged forward to block his path.

Twisting his body as he charged forward, he slammed his tail into the figures like a spiked cudgel and batted others aside with beats of his wings. He had his weaknesses, but Gregory also knew his strengths and he used them to quickly dispatch his assailants. His foes dissipated, he turned to resume his sprint but was instead thrown to the ground by a blast of energy from a long staff in the purple dragon's grasp. More of the dragon's minions restrained him before he could recover and lifted him groaning in pain to his knees, only a few feet away from his pinned Dragon Master.

"Let…her go…" he gasped.

The purple dragon laughed. "Oh don't worry, she's not the one I'm here for. You'll make a much more _compelling_ prize."

"No!" Natalya yelled with sudden energy. "Leave Gregory, take me Chang! The boy has done nothing, I am much better hostage!"

"Nat…" Gregory wheezed.

"But that's just it, I'm afraid, you're _too_ good. We can't possibly take the chance of leaving you alive," she derided, drawing her vicious claws back for the final blow. "Any last words?"

"Last words?" a familiar voice scoffed above them. "But the party's just starting, y'all, Mac'Daddy Jake's in the hizzouse!"

Chang wheeled around from her quarry as four new dragons, grey cloaks flapping loosely behind them, soared through one of the larger holes in the roofing and circled high above them. Each one hurled a blinding stream of fire, melting away the gathering of shade demons and encircling the cavernous room in towering flames. The red and yellow dragon with flaring green scales running along his spine landed beside Gregory, who had never been so happy to see his obnoxious cousin before in his life. The others landed as well, blocking Chang's escape routes in all four cardinal directions.

"It was unwise to show yourself, _Chang_ ," Lao Shi called haughtily, "but we accept your surrender!"

"Let her go and come quietly, Chang, the jig's up!" Haley yelled.

They were all dumbfounded as Chang reeled her head back in thrilled, victorious laughter. "Indeed it is, fools!" She roughly chucked Natalya's limp body at Sun, drawing her staff up as they all moved to catch her and slamming it to the ground. An explosion of black smoke blinded them all.

"Master! Nat!" Gregory called into the inky fog as the air cleared and he found the Russian Dragon climbing to her feet with Sun's help. "Nat, are you okay?" She made a low, unintelligible moan. "What? Sorry, Nat, I didn't catch that."

"I said that is NOT MY NAME!" she roared at him. Gregory immediately relaxed, beaming with joy.

"Yup, you're alright," he laughed.

Jake flew down through the hole in the ceiling and landed beside them, growling in frustration, "No sign of Chang. Gramps?" Lao Shi flew in through the main entrance and shook his head, matching his grandson's disappointment. "Aw man," Jake groaned, his shoulders dropping.

"What's important is that no one was hurt," Sun consoled them, smiling brightly at Natalya, who grimaced and shook off the Korean Dragon's comforting hand.

"You're right," Jake brightened up, clapping Gregory on the back and applauding him, "You weren't half bad, cuz, you held your own back there!"

"Yeah, you aren't nearly as scrawny and pathetic as I remember, Greggy," Haley agreed with oblivious sincerity.

Gregory tensed, his teeth clenched and bared at their childhood label for him. " _Don't call me that_ ," he hissed, Natalya smirking ever so slightly next to him. They all turned away from their pleasantries as sirens picked up in the distance, gradually growing louder with every passing second.

"Oh, right, we should probably bounce," Jake commented aloud, looking around at the burning shell of the warehouse as it slowly began to collapse, piece by piece. Haley jumped aside with a yelp as a section of roofing crashed to the floor beside her in a mess of bent paneling.

"Nat?" Gregory asked his master with a concerned look, which she rebuffed wordlessly before taking to the air and leading their escape through the perforated ceiling as the creaking metal deathtrap crumbled around them.

"It is good to see you all, but why are you here? What happened to the mission?" Natalya called back to them while they flew above the wharfs and industries towards the suburbs, the sky streaked with the red of the setting sun as it inched towards the remote horizon.

"The Dark Dragon attacked Fred and Dominic's territory, leaving them no choice but to return to Sydney. The Dragon Council thought he would attempt something similar here, so we returned just in case. It would appear that their predictions were quite accurate," Lao Shi answered over the rushing wind.

"We stopped at the shop first thing after we arrived from the Isle of Draco and Fu Dog told us where you two usually trained. We thought it wise to check on you both," Sun added.

"Wise? It was genius!" Gregory laughed. "But next time, would it kill you to come a little faster? I mean, I like being at the mercy of a homicidal maniac as much as the next dragon, but…"

"Yo G!" Jake shouted over him, Gregory rolling his eyes in return. "Speaking of maniacs, what's up with Chang? I thought we threw her behind bars after Hong Kong!"

Lao Shi spat in Mandarin, and it sounded fairly vulgar from what Gregory could tell. "Unfortunately, young dragon, I too am unaware of how the _traitor_ came to be free, though I am beginning to understand how the Dark Dragon may have escaped from Victoria Peak."

"We'll have to inform the Council and search the city over for Chang," Sun worried.

"Jake!" Haley shouted, pointing down to a familiar row of apartments and townhouses below them before falling into a steep dive.

"Later problems, Sun!" Jake yelled before following his sister, laughing wildly as he careened towards the earth. Gregory joined without thinking, soaring just behind Jake as they closed in on the brick townhome below and landed roughly in its small, city-scape 'backyard'. He released his dragon chi and transformed back into his lanky human body as Jake and Haley threw open the sliding back porch door and crashed into the kitchen beyond.

"My golly, back already Greggy? It isn't even six yet!" Jonathon called from the living room as he stood from the couch and turned the corner into the kitchen.

"Hey Uncle John, I…" he answered before being drowned out by yells of "DAD!"

The middle aged man was promptly tackled and ensnared in the bone-breaking hugs of two rather large and heavy dragons. He flailed as well as could be expected and his face was beginning to turn a worrying shade of purple, his two children still lost in their hysteria, when Susan began descending the stairs.

"Are you alright, dear? I thought I heard…" She reached the bottom level and turned to see the scaly dog-pile, her jaw dropping in surprise before she threw up her hands with laughter. " _Kids_!"

Both dragons snapped their heads up with broad toothy smiles and shouted "Mom!" as they leapt up from the floor, the relatively tall Chinese woman suddenly sandwiched between the two of them in a painful, yet impossibly happy, embrace. Jonathan managed to pick himself up, catching his breath and righting his glasses while steadying himself on the knocked over furniture.

"Now wait just one darn tootin' minute!" he said loudly with authority. All three of them ceased their cries of joy and watched him with surprised looks as, with his completely seriousness, professional tone, he sternly demanded, "You both know the rules! No dragons in the house, no exceptions, is that understood?"

Each of their faces was riddled with shock, but both Jake and Haley obeyed sadly, flames covering them entirely and leaving behind two, very human looking adolescents.

"Sorry Dad, we just…" Jake apologized meekly until he found himself and Haley trapped in the unyielding arms of his mother and father, taking their own turns at crushing their family with affection.

"Gotcha, Jakers ," his father joked, rubbing his knuckles into his son's unkempt hair. Jake laughed and threw his arm around his father's neck, returning the noogie twice over while Haley and Susan watched happily, the two still wrapped in their own embrace.

Jonathan finally managed to break away and both boys ran their hands through their hair with identical mannerisms, chuckling like kids. "So, how was the trip?" Jonathan asked casually. "Did you bring back any souvenirs? No wait, let me guess, it's a _mug_! At least, it's usually a mug…"

Jake shook his head and laughed aloud, easing down onto the still upturned couch. "You might wanna sit down, dad, cuz it's a _long_ story."

Gregory still leaned against the patio door, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a sad smile, when a hand rested on his shoulder. He looked back and up into the slate eyes of his Dragon Master, standing firm as a human with sharp facial features and her chin length black hair tucked behind her ears. She watched him carefully with a bearing of deep sympathy.

"You are alright, Gregory?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he sighed, turning back to the reunited family sitting in the next room. "I just forgot how good it feels to be home."

* * *

"You've got to be joking, there's _another_?" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry gave a simple nod and moved to the side, giving her enough room to go right up to the new addition to the Gryffindor common room notice board. Her eyes flew across the surface of the official looking document several times over before she crossed her arms and stomped over to the nearest window, pouting at her own reflection.

" _Educational Decree 26_ ," Ron read aloud beside him, taking much longer to reach the bottom of the parchment. " _All creatures, magical and otherwise, including owls, toads…_ uh-huh… _must be registered with the High Inquisitor…unregistered creatures will be removed from the grounds…students found with unregistered creatures will be expelled_." He straightened up and turned to Harry, unfazed. "Well, we'll just get Hedwig and Pigwidgeon sorted, unless she blames the owls for those Quarreling Quills that got slipped into her desk last week."

"She doesn't care about our pets, Ron," Hermione said shortly, passing them by, leading them out of the common room and down the staircases.

"It's because of Jake, " Harry said simply. Hermione gave a stiff nod.

"It's exactly like Professor McGonagall said. They'll never make it back so long as Umbridge's still here," she affirmed.

"We'll just have to hope the D.A.D.A curse stays strong and she snuffs it by the end of the year, then," Ron said cheerily, and for once Hermione didn't reprimand him for the dark comment. They walked into the Great Hall and found their seats, but Ron uncharacteristically left the breakfast spread untouched and instead stared at their recently returned Gamekeeper, who was seated at the Head Table alongside the other professors.

"He really ought to see Madam Pomfrey," Harry worried, examining Hagrid's still very gruesome face.

"Hagrid…" Ron mumbled.

"Yes, Ron, Hagrid's back," Hermione dismissed him, but he slowly finished his thought.

"…he's a giant, isn't he?"

It took Harry a moment to understand the implications behind Ron's statement, at which point he dropped his fork with a dangerous look in his eyes. "She wouldn't dare."

"Of course not," Hermione responded, "he's only a half-giant, though she's still going to do everything she can to find a reason to sack him tomorrow. He doesn't know what she's like, her inspection will be _awful_." She leaned her head on one of her hands, drumming the fingers of her other on the table. "The way she treated him after the match Saturday, it was like she was talking to a _dog_. Like she…" Her voice trailed and shook with anger, enough to make Ron lean away in defense.

"Like she was talking to Jake," Harry finished.

Her fierce gaze focused on him, and Harry was certain that countless curses were flying through her mind when Angelina Johnson approached them with a paper in her hand. "Potter, Weasley, I've got…" she recoiled as Hermione spun around and fixed her with the damning stare, "…er, I've got the booking schedule for the pitch this week."

Hermione beckoned for it, and Johnson stiffly handed her the parchment. She looked it over briefly before informing them, "The soonest we can meet is Tuesday, Slytherin have the pitch reserved then. Why did you take up all of Saturday?" she asked Angelina curiously, who immediately threw a sour look at Harry.

"Tryouts," she said shortly, turning on her heel and strutting away. Harry stood to shout after her, but no words came to his mind and he merely gawped at her retreating form like a fish out of water. Hermione pulled out her Galleon as he sat back onto the bench and discretely slid her wand out from beneath her robes. A few motions and mumbled words later, she slid both back into her pockets and prepared to leave for their first classes that morning. Harry could now feel his own coin burning, alerting him of its new markings.

"Listen, Hermione," Ron addressed her carefully, though she gave no sign of having heard him. He grunted before struggling on, "You seem really upset about all of this, but come off it. I mean there's nothing we can do about it now, is there?"

She slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at him with a cold stare. "I will not _come off it,_ Ron. God knows Umbridge won't."

She swept out of the hall, her hair bouncing against her back with her quick pace while Ron sighed in defeat. "She's bloody mental, you know that?"

"I know she's ticked," Harry answered with a small smile. As she'd passed beyond the doors of the Great Hall, Harry had seen her hand dive back into her pocket, no doubt to fiddle with the dragon-engraved, golden coin.

"A fat lot of good it'll do having her boiling over," Ron derided. Following Hermione's act, they picked up their belongings and began to make their way to History of Magic.

"Actually, I think it will," Harry considered.

"How do you figure?" Ron asked incredulously as they left the hall.

Harry turned to look at him, steadfast. "She's the cleverest of all of us, not to mention how she gets when it comes to S.P.E.W. and the dragons." He actually shuddered slightly and could tell from Ron's look of increasing terror that the same thoughts were running through his mind.

Harry gave a teetering laugh of concern as he reached for the door to Professor Binns's classroom. "If there's one person whose bad side I'd rather not be on, Ron, it's Hermione."

* * *

"Ready, Jake?" Gregory asked, pulling his jacket on over his head. Jake stood in the doorway to his house, looking out at the pale morning sky while some strange hesitation latched him firmly to the ground.

It was the same city air in his lungs, the same skateboard in his hand, and the same porch beneath his feet, as though nothing had changed. Yet Jake felt different, like a stranger on his own doorstep. He impulsively reached towards his neck to unknot the strings of his cloak in preparation for his travel, but his fingers found nothing. Looking down, he saw only his normal outfit and smacked himself in disappointment. Of course he wasn't wearing it now, why would he? No, it hung morosely in his closet, surrounded by old costumes, unused button-downs, and hideous sweaters, where it belonged.

"Actually, I'll catch you later, Greggy," he said, clipping his helmet strap below his chin.

Before his cousin could protest, he threw his board on the concrete and took off down the street at a brisk pace, his nerves easing on the familiar path. Gregory had been attending his same high school during his stay, a year below him, and Jake was confident that he could make the trip on his own, unless his return had for some reason suddenly destroyed his cousin's sense of direction. Besides, what he needed more than anything was to shake off his unreasonable apprehensions, which certainly wouldn't happen walking alongside his irritating cousin.

The clacking of his wheels on the sidewalk cracks and the thrill of weaving in and out of busy streets filled him with the renewed excitement that he sorely needed. The sight, then, of the two teenagers lazily skating down the road ahead of him only inflated his euphoria.

"But think about it, Trix! What does everybody like to eat for breakfast? Numero uno, _pizza_ , and numero dos, _donuts_. It's perfect!" said the tall boy with saggy clothes and a posture to match.

"Spudinski, boy, listen to mamma Trixie, cuz I aint gonna say this again: they've already got pizza filled donuts and they're called Hot Pockets," the much shorter, darker girl chided him.

"Those tiny things don't count, plus they burn my tongue every time. So not cool…" he countered airily.

"You should try flipping them in the microwave, Spud."

Spud put a finger up to scratch the shell of his helmet, apparently in thought. "You know, that just might work, Jake." Trixie twisted around and flung herself spectacularly from her skateboard, tripping and skidding to a halt on the ground as the purple wooden board flew off down the street.

Jake sharply turned out of the way and came to a stop next to her. "Trix! Girl, you alright?"

"Don't you 'girl you alright' me!" she sassed, brushing herself off before pointing an accusing finger at Jake. "You've been gone for months without telling your homegirl where you at or when you're coming back, and then you show up to give Chef Spud frozen food tips?!" She punched Jake firmly in the shoulder, making him wince with pain and clasp the tender bruise.

"Yo! Trix, I told you I…" She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Even though he'd grown a little throughout high school, Jake was still only barely taller than her and was well trapped by her embrace. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! Uncle!" he laughed.

She stepped back with a smile. "It's good to have you back, Jakie."

"We're good, Trix, I got your board!" Spud called as he rode back to the pair of them, Trixie's skateboard tucked under his arm. He handed it to her and stared at Jake for a solid ten seconds before bellowing, "WOAH, Trixie look! I found Jake! Wait…I thought you were in England? But if you're there, and we're here, then… _we_ must be in England too!" He scolded the girl with passive annoyance, "Trix, you really gotta tell me ahead of time when we travel internationally, I don't even think I have my passport…"

"Just can it broham!" she yelled, snatching her board and shoving him back in one motion.

Jake could only smile and raise his fist to Spud, who met it gladly. "Welcome back to the Big Apple, bud."

"I missed you guys, more than you know," Jake chuckled honestly.

"Oh snap, y'all," Trixie interrupted, checking her watch. "We'll have to do the whole 'reunion' thing on the way, baby, or we're gonna be late." And like that, the three of them were on their way, skating in line towards school passed bystanders and alleys just like they had for years.

"I thought for sure this place would be leveled by the time we got back. You guys must have really helped Greggy," Jake called ahead to them, their destination coming into sight a few blocks away.

"I wouldn't exactly say we _helped_ him," Spud commented.

"Oh don't even get me _started_ on that boy," Trixie sneered. "I thought I was gonna have to mess him up five minutes after we met."

"It was okay though, his dragon lady was pretty tough. She had everything covered." Spud explained.

"What about you, Jakie? How was the fancy 'magic school'?" she asked, waving her hands in the air dramatically as they stowed their boards and walked through the school's main entrance.

"What, Hogwarts?" He halted, distracted by the memories streaming in front of him. _Looking up at glittering towers in the night sky, drinking butterbeer in a cozy room, soaring past witches and wizards on brooms with a ball tucked beneath his arm, a dome of shadow demons slowly closing in around him, the soot and confetti covered face of a furious little woman, Hermione beaming up at him and shaking his clawed hand…_

"Dude, anybody home?" Spud asked, waving a hand in front of Jake's face.

Jake shook himself awake, pulling his hand out of his pocket where it had been twirling the golden coin. He looked down at the edge of the Galleon as it suddenly burned and saw the time and date updated, beckoning him back to that distant, wonderful castle.

Jake slipped it back into his pocket and gave his friends a shrug, sighing, "The food was bad, classes were boring, and there were plenty of chumps, so not too different."

Spud had his signature blank look, scratching the small patch of stubble on his chin. "Bro, are you sure you went to the right, uh, educational institution for adolescent sorcery?"

"Yah, playa, that place doesn't sound magical at all," Trixie agreed in confusion.

"I guess so…" he mumbled, his thoughts drifting again.

_Jean...it's perfect._

"…but then again," he smirked, "…it had its moments."


	20. A Season of Madmen

He looked up from the papers in front of him to scan the room one last time. There couldn't be any witnesses, any wandering eyes to see what he was about to attempt. It was undeniable how risky this was, but he wouldn't get another chance like this for almost a month and a glance at the clock told him his time was fading fast. It was now or never.

Jake took a deep breath.

Trixie and Spud gave him reassuring nods as he slid his hand beneath his desk and flexed his fingers, staring ahead at the front of the classroom. Mr. Sermon sat at his desk, mimicking his classroom of students all bent low over their essays and writing furiously across his own stack of ungraded papers. The slightly balding man reached over to grab his metal thermos, looking for another sip of coffee to power him through the tedious work, and was met with empty air. His fingers wagged limply, searching for the canister, before his hand dropped to the desk and continued to feel about. Finding nothing, he dropped his pen and reached to his other side, again finding vacant desk space, until at last he grudgingly looked up from his papers.

The three juniors were struggling to mute their chuckling as they sat in the last row of desks, thoroughly enjoying the sight of their English teacher standing up and patting his pockets as if the lost thermos had snuck its way into his pants. They all quickly ducked back down to their essays as he threw a suspicious look at their poorly contained mirth, though Jake was still on the verge of losing his cool as Mr. Sermon dropped to his knees and checked beneath his chair and desk next.

Blaring ringing from the school bell thankfully saved the American Dragon from his building laughter. He hurriedly scribbled in the last sentence of his assignment before grabbing his bag and dropping his essay on the teacher's desk. As they left the classroom, Jake flicked his hand over his shoulder while Mr. Sermon quickly stood and shouted, "Make sure to hand in your essays and have a good break!" His eyes suddenly squinted and he carefully lifted a hand to the top of his head, his fingers brushing against the smooth metal cylinder that rested atop his scalp.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Jake the Jake-nificent!" Spud announced as they walked down the crowded hallway and found their lockers.

"Thank you, thank you," he bowed haughtily.

"That was pretty sick, yo, but it still wasn't as kickin' as dropping Nolan's pants after gym last month," Trixie laughed, taking out her skateboard and closing the metal door. "Or when you tripped up Brad at the park last week, _that_ was rich."

"Especially when he blacked out and we had to call an ambulance, good times," Spud sighed reminiscently.

"I still feel kind of bad about that…" Jake laughed meekly, his hand twitching back towards his pocket as he felt a prick of heat against his thigh.

"Pft, please Jakie, if anyone had that coming to 'em it was Brad. That boy's all kinds of messed up," Trixie scoffed. Her and Spud pushed the exit doors open and stood on the verge of the parking lot outside. When Jake didn't walk by, Trixie looked back to see the green and black haired teenager standing still, the torrent of students shoving into and around him while he looked down at his feet, his hands tucked into his jeans.

"Hey, bud! You, uh, off in your noggin?" Spud called out to him.

Jake didn't budge. "YO, JAKIE!" Trixie yelled, glaring at him with a hand on her hip. He jerked his head up and found her with glazed over eyes, shuffling with the flow of traffic to walk beside them as they made their way out onto the frozen winter streets of New York. "You sure you're all up there, Jake?" Trixie asked in concern.

"I'm good," he dismissed her dreamily. Trixie gave him a skeptical look and returned a hand to her hip. Jake looked away with a sigh and walked ahead, strapping his helmet on as he avoided the ice on the sidewalk.

"Boy, I don't get you," she huffed and followed behind him. "Ever since you got back from Wonderland, you've been happier than ever, like before any of this dragon biz started up. Aint that right, Spud?" Jake looked sideways at his lanky friend who shrugged, unashamed.

"It's true, bro. You know, the goofy smiling, pulling pranks, even dropping the 'Don-drag-D'marco' line the other day. Like, the last time you were this pumped we were in eighth grade and…"

"I was gettin' to that, Spudinski!" Trixie cut him off, turning back to Jake. "Point is, we're all crazy happy that half the time you're gettin' down with life. But the other half you're staring at nothing or pouting like your goldfish just died. What's up with that?"

He stopped walking and turned to face the two of them, leaning onto a frosted light pole. "Seriously, Trix, it's nothing. I…" he sputtered for a few seconds before growling in frustration and slapping a hand against his helmet. "I don't know, okay? I guess I just miss the UK a little. Walking around in full on dragon-mode, learning magic, making new friends…"

 _You're leaving, aren't you?_ He shook his head violently and tried to concoct an explanation. "You don't understand, it was _unreal,_ Trix."

She cocked an eyebrow, her arms crossed. "You know you can't get anything past us, Jakie, so why don't you just say it?"

"Yo, you think I'm lying?" he answered defensively, gripping his skateboard.

"It's totally obvious, dude," Spud informed him.

"That look you keep getting? You've been thinking about _her_ again, haven't you?" Trixie said plainly.

He gaped at her in surprise, the two of them flashing cocky grins in response. "But I…how did...?"

"You're like an open book, bud, totally falling for your chick again," Spud laughed understandingly.

Jake slid his helmet down to cover his face and groaned loudly in muffled defeat. Spud put a comforting hand on his shoulder and he dropped the headgear, looking up miserably at the cloudy sky. "I can't help it, guys, one second I'm in the moment and kickin' it here in the NYC, and the next…"

"Jake, we understand!" Trixie soothed him. He looked back at her sadly, his shoulders sagging. "We're just worried is all. I mean it's been, what, two years since you saw Rose?"

He screwed up his face in confusion. "Who?"

Her and Spud shared a look before she shook her head. "We gotta set you straight, and I know just how, baby. Peepgame, we hit the skate park, shred some mad asphalt, and later…"

"JAAAKE!"

All three of them reflexively groaned as Gregory ran towards them, losing his footing on the frozen concrete at the last moment and sliding into the metal pole Jake was leaning against. Jake bit back his laughter and helped lift his cousin to his feet, brushing off the bits of dirt and blackened snow clinging to his clothing.

"Careful, Greggy, this aint the Keys. You gotta…"

"Trolls are attacking!" Gregory gasped, struggling to support himself on wobbling legs.

"Say _what_ now?" Trixie snapped.

"The Magus Bazaar! A messenger pixie just found me and said they're out of control and trashing the place!"

"It's the middle of Winter, they shouldn't even be above ground!" Jake exclaimed, utterly baffled. "Why are they going nuts, did the pixie say?"

Gregory shook his head, wide eyed. "She just said they were yelling about 'taking over' and waving some weird flag."

Jake narrowed his eyes in suspicion before quickly handing his bag and gear to Spud. He grabbed Gregory's arm and hurried to the nearest alley for cover. "Something's not right Greggy, let's get over there."

"Wait, we're coming too Jake!" Trixie yelled after them.

"You guys go to the shop and find the others, tell them what's going down!" Jake yelled behind them as they turned the corner and disappeared beyond shadows. Blaring car horns and distant sirens filled the air while he released his cousin and shouted, "Dragon UP!" Lost in the fog and mist, a red blur streaked upwards from the dim side street and into the gray sky.

"Wait, Jake! Ugh…Dragon UP!" Jake was soaring through the chilly air, urban Manhattan shrinking below while the neighborhoods of Brooklyn came into focus. Gregory caught up to him, worrying, "Shouldn't we go get Nat and Lao Shi before…"

"No time," Jake called back. They followed high above the Brooklyn Bridge, descending slowly towards the center of the borough to the only place a magical marketplace could be hidden: the densest portion of town, twisting unseen between tight buildings. "Whatever's happening, we've gotta get to the bazaar _now_. Something's not right."

"You said that already," Gregory grumbled shakily. He snapped his head around and stared at the red dragon flying ahead of him, calling out, "Wait, wait, wait! You don't think it's _Chang_ do you? And you want us to go ALONE?!"

They passed the rooftop of the last imposing high-rise before flying down towards its wide backstreet. Halfway down the building, a warm, fluid sensation spilled over them as they passed through the enchanted veil that concealed their destination. The once empty, grime-filled alley bloomed into an entrancing avenue, meandering like a lazy river with banks lined by stalls and countless creatures rushing in its flow. Jake's eyes found the source of the crowd's terror as they all fled from a procession of ransacking, uproarious beasts, each easily the size of a semi.

Their failed attempts to track down Cheng in the weeks following their return had infuriated Jake, and every ounce of that rage was renewed at the sight of the troll leader waving his instrument of fear: a long metal staff bearing a dark purple flag emblazoned with a black dragon ouroboros. He dove down into the middle of the street and landed gruffly before their mob, straightening up to his fighting stance with arms raised and wings flared while Gregory landed somewhere out of sight just behind him, still mumbling doubtfully.

The trolls halted and gave them deadly stares, their leader pointing the banner at them. "Get out way, Macan Dragon!"

Jake held the stare with a wicked grin, steadfast. "What's your name, big guy?"

The troll narrowed its eyes before grumbling, "Name Gurt."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Of course it is, Gurt. First, you were missing a couple syllables there, it's _American_ Dragon. Say it with me, A-MER-I-CAN." Gurt looked hopelessly confused and tried mimicking Jake, making incoherent sounds like a bear with indigestion. Jake deflated in disappointment. "Close enough. Second, I'm gonna give y'all about ten seconds to turn tail and get the heck outta here before we open up a can of smack'daddy on ALL of your sorry butts. How's that sound?"

Gurt was a stolid mountain, totally unresponsive. Jake smacked himself and was preparing to give a pre-school interpretation when the banner pole slammed into the ground beside him. "Boss make Gurt-clan strong! Mucky Dragon no stop!" Gurt roared, lifting his weapon up for another strike.

Jake looked back to a terrified Gregory and gave a shrug, sighing, "I tried to be nice," before leaping over Gurt's next swing and landing on the troll's lumpy shoulders. "Ooh, almost. Third time's the charm?" Gurt bellowed with anger and, grasping the rod with both of his massive hands, swung it upwards at his passenger.

Laughing, Jake again vaulted upward and cringed as the staff crashed into Gurt's head with an almighty ring. The other trolls watched him topple to the ground, out cold with the American Dragon landing beside him. Jake picked up the fallen flagpole and spun it in the air like a polearm, bringing it to a stop aimed at the stunned assembly with all signs of playful cockiness wiped from his expression.

"Beat it," he said in a low voice. They stood still with stupid looks, unmoving, until Jake roared wildly into the air. The largest ones flinched and immediately backed away, the gathering of trolls quickly turning back and retreating from the marketplace, their leathery backs disappearing around the distant bend in the street.

"Wow, Jake, that was…" Gregory stopped gaping when Jake ripped off the purple flag and tossed it to him. "Uhm, thanks? Jake, what're you…"

"Yo big guy!" He walked back to the downed troll leader and rolled him onto his back, frowning at the very much unconscious mass. Jake waved his hand and a wooden bucket launched off of the ground by a nearby market stand, arching to land on Gurt's head and thoroughly soaking the troll in freezing water. He awakened with a roar and tried to lift himself only to find the metal pole in Jake's grasp pinning his chest to the ground.

"Wakey wakey, Gurt," Jake cooed, Gurt in turn glaring up at him.

"Gurt…head hurts," he grunted.

"And that's not all that's gonna hurt if you don't tell me who the guy you're working for is pronto," Jake threatened, leaning on the rod.

To Jake's irritation, Gurt laughed stupidly before answering, "Dumb dragon. Boss no man, boss lady."

He dug the pole into the troll's skin even further. "Who is it? What's her name?"

Gurt winced in pain and eyed the weapon fearfully. "She…she dragon lady. Name…Pang?"

" _Chang_." His head flooded with sweltering heat while scratched ringing drowned out the rest of the street. A tiny voice echoed somewhere far away. _You've taken care of them before; it ought to be a breeze this time_.

"Where is she?" Jake growled. Thick blood began to leak from where the polearm was cutting into the troll's skin. The world seemed tunneled, his focus restricted and blinded. _And when that's done, you can all come back…_

"No know where, lady no say…"

"Try again," Jake hissed, twisting the pole. Gurt's huge fingers carved into the cobbled street as he writhed in agony.

"Gurt swear, no Gurt, no, no…" he begged.

"LIAR!" The troll cried out in pain. Gregory was calling out to him, but whatever he yelled made no difference. All Jake cared about was the whimpering troll beneath him and the psychopath that had sent him. "You know where she is, tell me! TELL ME!"

Instead of Gurt's answer, Jake received a sharp blow to his side. He rolled to the ground and quickly regained his foothold, ready to strike back at his attacker. Instead, he found the blue dragon form of Lao Shi standing between him and a huddled Gurt, the pole cradled in his hands. His Dragon Master scowled at the bloodied end of the stick before tossing it aside and looking over his shoulder to the troll. "Leave," he commanded quietly.

Gurt wasted no time and hurriedly got to his feet. Jake looked at his grandfather, affronted. "Not yet, G, I'm not done with…"

"Yes, you are." Jake recoiled from the cold look of his Dragon Master. The world that had previously been a burning blur melded back into the quiet bazaar with frightened bystanders peeking out from alleys and windows. Nat stood beside Gregory, who mirrored the uncertain looks of their growing crowd. There was an ache in the pit of his stomach, a shameful guilt that flourished under his grandfather's continued stare.

"Gramps…I…"

"The Council may have been right," Lao Shi said coolly. "Perhaps you _have_ lost perspective."

The words hurt far more than any physical injury. He searched desperately for an explanation but found only the despondent stares of the whispering crowd. He'd been protecting them all, trying to finally find Chang and the Dark Dragon, trying so hard to make everything right! So where had it all gone so wrong?

His eyes trailed back to the bloodied pole. The sight sickened him and he did the only thing he could: he flew away. Away from the accusing stares, the damning evidence, his disappointed grandfather, all of it. No one pursued him and by the time he managed to escape his thoughts he found himself sitting atop the Empire State Building, alone.

Time passed quickly up there. The darkening sky above and sounds of city life below provided an escape for what felt like hours, and Jake gave in to the emptiness. No more memories to fill his head, no more faces to judge him, just the calming breeze and golden coin cradled in his hand.

He'd never felt so lost.

* * *

Harry couldn't stop shaking. Flickering torches scattered their shadows as they hurried down the dark stone corridors of Hogwarts, Ron and Professor McGonagall leading the way ahead of him. Every time they passed a corner he whipped his head around in panic, searching for the gleaming eyes of the snake he was certain lurked in the darkness. Another of his nights had been ensnared by an unnatural dream, but this one had gone far beyond the familiar black corridor he'd come to expect.

"Fizzing Whizbee," Professor McGonagall said crisply to a large stone gargoyle. The statue promptly hopped aside, revealing a spiraling staircase that slowly spun upward as the three of them stepped onto it. The tight space and grinding stones were inflaming Harry's paranoia to dangerous levels by the time he finally saw the wooden door of Professor Dumbledore's office.

Though he wanted to slam through the door with reckless abandon, Harry carefully followed his head of house as she knocked three times and lead them into the bleak room beyond. Harry found the headmaster at his candlelit desk, observing them as they entered. "Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall…and… _ah_."

It was as he'd expected. Dumbledore sternly watched Professor McGonagall and refused to so much as look at him, just as he'd done since the Summer break. The dejection mixed venomously with his frenzied attitude and his rage was once again bubbling close to the surface. Whatever game the headmaster was playing at, there wasn't time for it. He had to make him understand that.

"Well, Potter?" McGonagall pried.

"Er, what?" he responded confused, dragging himself back to the present.

"Describe what you dreamt for Professor Dumbledore."

"It wasn't a dream!" he argued hotly. She gave him a cold stare but didn't interrupt him, so he blundered on, "Well, I mean there was a dream, something different and stupid, but then this one cut in and took over. I _saw_ it happen, Professor. Mr. Weasley was sleeping in some dark room and I couldn't see anything, but a giant… _snake_ attacked him."

The story sounded even more ridiculous as he heard the words leave his mouth. Whirring sounds from the instruments and trinkets throughout the office were the only reminders that the world hadn't completely frozen around him. Dumbledore stared up at the ceiling, his fingertips crossed in thought.

"From what perspective did you see this?" the headmaster asked.

"What?" Harry blinked. "I saw it from my perspective, of course, who else would I…"

"And who were you?" he continued without pause.

Harry could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, or several. _He already knows?_ "The snake," he answered grudgingly. "I was the snake, I attacked Mr. Weasley, Professor." Ron looked sick and shrank into his dressing gown while Professor McGonagall watched him with fierce attention. "Please, sir, he needs help, someone's got to…"

Dumbledore was on his feet, yelling out names and instructions to no one in particular. What surprised Harry more were the many responses that followed, until he looked around the walls of the office and found the many portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses all running about, flitting in and out of their frames hurriedly. When Professor McGonagall conjured chairs for them all to rest in, he sat automatically and observed as Dumbledore walked over to Fawkes and whispered quietly. The phoenix vanished in a plume of flame.

"What about Mr. Weasley, Professor?" Harry begged.

Dumbledore observed a small, smoking instrument on his desk, nodding in apparent understanding. "We will know in just a moment," he mumbled. Harry wasn't satisfied; he'd seen the bites, the blood. Mr. Weasley's broken body didn't have 'a moment'.

He opened his mouth to protest again. "Dumbledore! They've found him!" one of the portraits yelled down at them. "I shouted until security came and told them someone was sneaking around down there. They just walked back past with him."

"Thank you Everard, no doubt Dilys will…"

"He's at St. Mungo's!" the witch named Dilys called just at that moment. "He's just been admitted. It doesn't look good, Dumbledore."

He hummed sagely. "Minerva, kindly wake the other Weasley children." She nodded and quickly swept out of the room. Dumbledore moved back to his desk, mumbling to himself when he wasn't issuing additional instructions. Though Ron was still understandably stricken, Harry felt some relief. At least for now, Mr. Weasley was alive. That was something.

"They haven't found anything else, Dumbledore. No snakes, just a puddle of blood." Everard informed the headmaster. Again, Dumbledore simply nodded in response.

"What about the woman?" Harry sputtered.

All of the paintings and Ron turned to him, Dumbledore twitching but resolutely studying his window curtains. "A woman?" he asked with sudden curiosity. "You mentioned no one else, Harry."

"I was caught up on the…snake. I just forgot I guess," Harry dismissed tiredly. "After I…I mean the snake…attacked Mr. Weasley, someone walked past me… _it_ , and down the hall."

Dumbledore looked away from his lit candle, the fire in his eyes rekindled. "Everard, I trust you were listening. Warn the others, have them search thoroughly." The painted man moved sideways and beyond his frame, leaving the burgundy backdrop vacant. "Did you recognize the person you saw?"

"No, I have no idea who she was," Harry admitted. Dumbledore wasn't disheartened.

"Can you describe her? Did she have any defining clothing or features?"

Compared to the obvious emergency surrounding Mr. Weasley, the strange assailant had demanded very little of Harry's attention and it took a moment for him to relive the vivid scene. "She looked normal, maybe foreign I suppose? After the snake attacked, she walked up, pushed Mr. Weasley's body out of the way, and kept going."

The headmaster sighed gently. He stroked his beard and, now pondering the fireplace, questioned Harry, "Was there anything else? An emblem, perhaps, or jewelry? Maybe a unique aspect of her hair or wand?"

Harry groaned with irritation, his eyes flickering back to the portraits. He was both desperate and afraid for any more news about Mr. Weasley's condition. "I think she was just wearing plain black robes, and her head was covered. I didn't even see a wand," he scoffed, not noticing the immediate pause in Dumbledore's pacing.

The office door opened and Professor McGonagall entered with the rest of Ron's red haired siblings following close behind, all quite disheveled and still in their sleeping apparel. Ginny immediately found Harry and Ron in their chairs, both of them sporting their own equally disturbed expressions.

"What's going on, Harry? Professor McGonagall…" she worried.

"My great-great-grandson is ecstatic, headmaster, and eagerly awaits his _guests_ ," a sleek man in one of the lower portraits sneered at Professor Dumbledore as he filled his previously empty painting.

"Thank you, Phineus, and what Professor McGonagall told you is correct, Ms. Weasley. Your father has been seriously injured." A burst of flame appeared in the center of the room and produced a golden feather, which Dumbledore snatched out of the air. He gave a curt nod to Professor McGonagall. "She's coming, Minerva, do whatever you can to stop her." She returned the gesture and swept once more out of the office with a whirl of her gown.

Dumbledore reiterated for the new Weasleys all that had transpired so far while retrieving a rusted kettle and waving his wand over it in mesmerizing motions, the kettle glowing a faint blue in response. Thankfully, he kept the descriptions vague, failing to include Harry's role in the attack, along with the unknown woman. Though they still looked completely uncomprehending by the end of his synopsis, Professor Dumbledore gathered them into a familiar circle with the kettle at its center. Each of them grasped a portion of it, Harry still training his gaze on the wizened old man.

"On three then," he said calmly. "One, two,…" Just before the inevitable yank behind his navel dragged him into that strange realm between the here and there of Portkey travel, Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes at last met his. Harry's mind erupted; his instincts were screaming to lash out and strike the man, to tear him limb from limb with unfamiliar, terrifying ferocity. He could feel himself giving in, bowing to the temptation, dreaming of the pulsing satisfaction that laid just an arm's length away…

"… _three_."

A whirl of sound and color consumed Harry and he soon found their weary group sprawled in the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. "There you all are, careful now. Let's get you all to the kitchen," Sirius ushered them as they gathered themselves. They followed numbly, shuffling along in dazed states to find chairs while Sirius delivered butterbeers to each of their places.

A part of him rejoiced at the sight of his godfather. They hadn't exactly ended their last conversation on the most pleasant terms, but just having one person he could depend on in the middle of this madness was a miracle. And yet, looking at the members of the family he'd just thrown into a maelstrom of terror, even having Sirius in the same room did little to calm him.

"Well then…" Sirius said simply when the scraping of chair legs and thumping of bottles had come to an end, "…fill me in. What's happened, what's going on?"

"We'd like to know as well," Fred agreed harshly, staring at Harry along with the others arranged around the table. He ignored their imploring gazes and focused instead on the bottle clutched between his hands in front of him, searching the foaming amber fluid for the answers he couldn't possibly understand, much less explain.

Predictably, he found very little.

* * *

There was a distinct dimple in the plaster where the tennis ball bounced against the ceiling. Normally Jake would feel bad about the damage, as well as his mother's continued nagging to quit making so much noise, but lately he found it hard to care much about anything. At least lying on his bed, up here alone in his room, he wasn't surrounded by his prying family. It was just he, his tennis ball, and the peeling roof.

"Jaaake!" _Well so much for that._ Haley flung open his bedroom door and skipped inside, beaming happily while her older brother ignored her entrance and continued to toss the green ball into the air with his dragon tail. "You know the rules about dragons in the house," she tattled. Jake glared at her scathingly - to her delight - and caught the ball with his hand, allowing the conflicting tail to dissipate in a burst of flame.

"What do you want, Haley?" he asked dryly.

"Mom wants you to come downstairs. It's almost noon and Aunt Cathy's going to be here soon," she answered gleefully, and even Jake had to smile at that. After having to put up with him for the rest of the fall semester and most the winter break, Gregory was finally going home after they all celebrated New Year's that night. Having to be in the same room as both his aunt and cousin for an entire day was a tall order, but they'd tough it out if it meant finally ridding themselves of Gregory.

"Whatever, fine. Give me a sec," he moaned, swinging his legs off of the bed.

"And Jake?" He cocked an eyebrow and she pointed down at his boxers. "You might want to put on some clothes, the undies aren't very flattering." She fled the room giggling, the tennis ball streaking after her down the hall.

Half an hour later, Jake was trudging down the stairs to the sounds of bustling activity as his family busied themselves with preparations. All except Gregory, of course, who lounged on the couch, staring out through the living room window.

"It's about time, Jake," Susan sighed, spotting her son and dragging him into the kitchen. "Come here, you can help me with…" She stopped in front of the stove and turned to look at him more closely, her eyes squinted. "Jake, you look awful! When was the last time you took a shower?" He genuinely pondered the question, and she shook her head before he could answer. "Never mind, I don't want to know. I need to you take out the trash and…"

The doorbell rang. They both turned to watch Haley bound to the front door and swing it open, midday sunlight spilling into the room. "Aunt Cathy!" she laughed, embracing the tall woman silhouetted in the doorframe.

"Haley, darling! You've gotten so big," the woman chimed, pinching the cheeks of the chest-high girl that had barely been above her waist the last time they'd met. She clapped her hands together and called out, "Happy New Year everyone! Where's my little Greggy?"

Gregory groaned loudly as he stood, "Ugh, _mom_ , you know I hate that." Cathy caught him in a hug and he stiffly returned it, smiling despite himself. Susan left Jake in the kitchen and greeted her while Jonathan followed into the home behind Cathy, tucking his car keys into his pocket.

"Oh, sorry honey. You're maturing so quickly," she cooed over her ever-blushing son. Jake felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. "Speaking of which, how was your stay? I don't see Natalya or Lao Shi anywhere."

Jake cringed, his mother answering, "They're closing down the shop for the day before they stop by, they should be here any minute."

"Awesome," Jake mumbled, hoisting up the bag of trash and tying it closed.

"And there's Jacob!" Cathy hummed, wrinkling her nose as he walked past them all carrying the garbage.

"Sup, Aunt Cathy," he grumbled, closing the door behind him without another word.

" _Well he hasn't changed_ ," came her muffled voice. He rolled his eyes and walked down to the street, pulling off the lid of the trash bin and dropping his cargo inside. Setting the lid back down, he saw someone across the street watching him closely out of the corner of his eye. After doing a double take, however, he found the sidewalk vacant but for parked cars and scrounging rats.

Jake shrugged and turned back to the house, climbing the porch steps and reaching for the door handle. Something slapped against the back of his head and he twisted around, his right hand red and scaled, reared back to strike. He expected a crazed goblin, a tweaked out pixie, maybe even a leprechaun over-indulging in early celebration. Instead he stared into the beady eyes of a black crow perched on their stone stoop railing.

"What the…man, get outta here," he shooed the crow away with his dragon hand, the other feeling his scalp for any damage. His eyes scanned the street again and came to rest on a rectangular piece of paper at his feet. Jake transformed his arm back and picked it up, discovering the object to be a thick envelope with a styled address written in black ink.

 _Mr. Jake Long_  
_182 Shorn Eagle Dr,. Second Upstairs Bedroom_  
 _New York City, New York_

There was no return address, nor stamps. Jake tore the letter open feverishly, cursing himself as he ripped the contents and fumbled to repair the note inside. The same slanted handwriting marked the paper with a short message that lacked any greeting or salutation. Sounds of laughter and casual conversation came from the door to his back as Jake read the letter.

 _You are urgently requested to travel to the Central Park Carousel._  
_Kindly arrive alone within the hour._  
 _Your cooperation in this matter is deeply appreciated._

"Say what?" he mumbled, rereading the message. If someone needed the Am-Drag, why didn't they just come ask him? His usual clientele certainly weren't opposed to directly interfering with his life. It definitely wasn't a prank, at least. Still, the vague summons was riddled with suspicion, enough to make Jake question its intentions.

" _I mean, it was a_ little _tough at first, but guarding New York's been a piece of cake_ ," Gregory's voice bled through the walls of his home. Jake's jaw clenched so hard it made his teeth ache. Accepting the invitation suddenly seemed much more appealing than brownstone behind him.

"What took you so long, Jakers?" Jonathan laughed as Jake rushed back into the home and up the stairs.

"Uh, nothing!" he called back. He threw on his jacket and helmet and grabbed the skateboard that leaned against his dresser as he quickly left his room and descended the stairs again. He opened the front door, explaining to his curious looking family, "I'm gonna meet up with Trix and Spud at the park, don't wait up for me."

"Wait, Jake, your grandfather…" his mother called out, but he swept outside. He heard her dulled shout of " _You come back soon, mister!_ " as he mounted his board and sped off down the sidewalk. It was too risky to fly in such clear conditions, and the park wasn't that far anyway. Keeping an eye on billboards and screens that he passed, he wagered he still had time to spare when he rounded the last bend in the path and found the crowded carousel.

"Well, I'm here. Now what?" he wondered aloud. Even if he knew who he was looking for, he doubted he'd be able to find them in this chaos. _Patience is a virtue_ , he thought sarcastically, deciding to find an empty bench and watch the mass of people meander about. For all of the apparent urgency in the note, there seemed to be nothing that demanded his attention, nothing requiring a magical guardian's intervention. Had the short ride not actually cheered him up significantly, he might have found the false alarm fairly embittering.

A ways off, he could see the ramps and rails of one his choice skating parks, currently packed with teenagers enjoying their freedom. Truth be told, he couldn't recall the last time he'd skated with his friends, enjoying a blissful afternoon like this one. In fact he couldn't recall much of his school break; it all just seemed to be a single morose blur. The realization made him somber, looking away from the happy sight to his other side at the man filling the bench space beside him that had been empty seconds before.

"Good afternoon, Jake," Dumbledore greeted him.

He immediately recoiled, yelping in surprise just before he recognized the wizard. Jake sat dumbfounded, goggling at the man with a gaping mouth.

"My apologies for being late," he continued, completely unimpeded by his audience's reaction. "Admittedly, I was looking for your unique hairstyle, but the protective headwear made that rather difficult. Your transportation, however, convinced me," he explained happily, pointing at Jake's skateboard: yellow with a red dragon design and green wheels.

Jake's heart was racing. He stood slowly, never taking his eyes away from the bearded man wearing a gray tweed suit and brown loafers. A million questions were begging to be voiced, but one thought had him terrified beyond speech: Dumbledore knew his human face.

"Yo, sorry old-timer, but I…I don't know what you're talking about," he chortled, raising his hands and taking a step back.

Dumbledore lowered his head, looking at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Your commitment to secrecy is commendable, Jake, but in this instance I believe it would be best for us to be plain."

"Plain?" Jake found it hard to move but he also couldn't stand the sight of this man. His expression shifted from that of disbelief to distrust while he sneered, "Yo, you're crazy. There's nothing to be plain about." He turned away and tossed his board to the ground, riding back the way he came and putting distance between him and the oddly dressed wizard.

He'd made it halfway through the park and detoured along the lake, riding with the edge of its nearest bank, before he finally stopped to look behind him. Seeing that the wizard had decided not to follow him was some comfort. He'd strongly considered how best to fight the man if it came to it and the prospect of doing so in broad daylight hadn't been all too thrilling.

"Aw man…this is bad, this is _so_ bad," he groaned, unbuckling his helmet and ruffling his hair, trying to calm himself. "If Dumbledore knows, then who else…" Umbridge's sickly smile drifted through his mind, "…the Ministry. I've gotta find gramps, we need to tell the Council."

"That would be the appropriate response," a familiar aged voice commented behind him. Jake whirled around and nearly fell over at the sight of Dumbledore standing behind him.

"Stop doing that!" he yelled, having had his fill of surprises for the day. He tossed his helmet and skateboard to the ground, tensing his arms at his sides and glaring at the man before him. "If you're trying to start something, just say so. I could use the exercise."

"Actually, I came to ask you a question," he said lightly, resting a hand on a nearby railing.

"A question…right," Jake scoffed. "I mean calling would just be too easy, and the mail would take forever, am I right?" Dumbledore seemed unabashed by the snide comments and cheerily reached into his jacket, pulling out a folded square of parchment.

"You'll find the answer much simpler." He handed Jake the paper, continuing, "I wanted to see if you could identify this person."

Jake took it warily and peeled his gaze off of Dumbledore long enough to examine the crude sketch. Her eyes were off center and her nose grossly disproportioned, yet Jake still seethed with rage as he recognized the former councilor turned traitor, Chang. "I take it you've met her before?" Dumbledore asked.

"You don't know the half of it," Jake sneered, giving the drawing back to the wizard like a used tissue. "That's Chang, she's the Dark Freak's right hand dragon. We almost had her a couple months back, but long story short we blew it. What's your damage with her?"

Dumbledore again reached into his jacket, this time retrieving a small crystal vial containing a tuft of ghostly silver strings. "This memory was from a friend of mine who was attacked some weeks ago in the Ministry of Magic. He has since recovered, though it took a great deal of time and thus delayed how soon I could see the event myself."

"Woah, hold up, you said that's his _memory_? Like, his thoughts and feelings, just yanked out of his head?" Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. "What? That's creepy, digging through someone's dome and stuff!"

"I assure you he provided it willingly," Dumbledore smiled. "The woman's appearance and behavior were unusual, though your Dragon Master Lao Shi had warned me of such a character not long after you left Hogwarts. I wished to confirm that suspicion in person." Jake twitched at the mention of his grandfather, though Dumbledore either failed to notice or chose not to question it.

Jake crossed his arms, looking away from the wizard. "Hate to ruin the party, but you got the wrong guy. The old man's just down the street, but I'm guessing you didn't mix up addresses. Why drag me out here?"

"Because I have a request," Dumbledore said softly, "and I understand completely if you wish to refuse." Jake went wide-eyed, completely uncomforted by Dumbledore's continued stoicism.

"See, that's really not the way to start asking someone for a favor," Jake chided.

The wizard tucked the vial back into his clothing. "The reason we were able to find the victim of the attack in time to save him was because someone witnessed it in a sort of vision."

"Like a prophecy?" Jake guessed, thinking back to the loud-mouthed Oracle Twins.

Dumbledore hummed before answering, "Yes and no. Rather than a vague prediction of the future, this account was experienced firsthand and in real time from the view of the assailant, which suggests a direct mental connection between the attacker - in this case a giant snake under the command of the Dark Lord, Voldemort - and the observer."

"A snake?" Jake laughed, incredulous. "Your guy got attacked by what's-his-face's _snake_?!" He tossed his hands in the air, beside himself. "Hang on, what freak has a 'mental connection' with a stupid snake?"

Dumbledore faced him slowly. "Harry Potter." A cloud of fog escaped into the chilly air from Jake's gaping mouth. "The link had previously gone unnoticed by Voldemort, but he is now well aware and quite capable of abusing it for his own desires."

"When you say _abuse_ …" Jake asked timidly.

"Primarily sensing emotions and interpreting thoughts, though it's certainly possible for there to be mental manipulation or even complete possession," Dumbledore answered darkly.

"Complete posses-…yo, Dumble, you gotta get Harry out of Hogwarts. Take him somewhere safer where your big baddy can't get to him!" Jake exclaimed.

"Ah, and therein lies the problem," Dumbledore sighed. "There is no place safer than Hogwarts, but the risk of Harry being used as a weapon is still too great. The stress of being removed from his classes may break Harry's limited defenses, yet I also can't assist him personally without drawing Voldemort's focus."

The standing hairs on the back of his neck told Jake he didn't like the direction Dumbledore was taking. He collected himself and said, "I get it, you're in deep, but you still haven't told me what you want. Just spit it out already." The wizard nodded and paused for a good while, staring intently at the teenager.

"I want you to return to Hogwarts."

It felt like he'd just slammed into another goal post. Every fiber of his being wanted to unthinkingly accept the offer, but there was something he was missing, something Dumbledore hadn't told him. "Let's be real, dawg, no one's gonna go for the dragons making a comeback after the way we left."

"Undoubtedly," he agreed, giving Jake an expectant look. "As Headmaster, I could never circumvent the Ministry of Magic's wishes and host _dragons_."

"You don't mean…" Jake whispered. The wizard was unreadable. "Yup, you've lost it. If you think we're all going to come back acting like humans and just hope no one recognizes us…"

"Not everyone." Dumbledore corrected. "The coincidence would be unmistakable, not to mention, if I recall correctly, your homes still require defending."

It was getting worse. "Gramps?..." Jake teetered.

Dumbledore's expression grew ever more somber. "There is no suitable place for your Dragon Master, and I doubt that he would approve of this venture, were he involved."

"Of course he wouldn't, what sane person would?!" Jake shouted while the pigeons foraging nearby fluttered away. "By myself in a school of walking, hormonal time bombs, I mean come on!" He took a deep breath and shook out his arms as magical embers began to spark out along his skin, continuing in a strained voice, "I don't know how you figured us out, but you must be desperate if you think I'm gonna risk anyone else finding out too."

"I am _very_ desperate," Dumbledore agreed readily, catching Jake off guard. "If all else fails, if Harry becomes a weapon of the Dark Lord, the consequences for the other students would be…unthinkable." For the first time since Jake met the man, Dumbledore was genuinely angry, his jaw set in determination.

"And what good will having me there be?" Jake asked curiously.

"You are familiar with the school, classes, and, more importantly, Harry himself. I can think of no one better suited to restraining the boy should Voldemort strike before we can teach Harry to defend himself," Dumbledore explained.

"A fail-safe, huh? Your 'Plan B'?" Jake shook his head. "You don't get it, wiz, I'm not a spy. I won't last one day without someone seeing right through me," Jake complained, thinking of the witty girl with brown, curled hair.

"Benjamin is well experienced in that field and has already volunteered his services in preparing you for the task before the start of next term," Dumbledore informed him.

"Hang on, you know about Stout?" The wizard smiled. "And he actually went along with this psycho plan?"

Dumbledore rubbed the collar of his coat. "Benjamin, unfortunately, knows all too well the danger the Dark Lord poses. We are quite like-minded in this scheme, as he also insisted that your involvement be entirely your decision."

"Gee, thanks," Jake scoffed. "Glad I get a vote this time, but let's recap. I go back to Hogwarts as Not-Jake the wizard and wait to tackle Harry if he finally cracks without letting my secret slip and dooming my race. Not to sound selfish, Dumble, but that's a pretty big one-way street. Why would I do any of that?"

Dumbledore regained his usual joviality. "To get what everyone desires: a second chance."

Jake paused, hesitant. "To capture Chang?" he clarified.

"Amongst other things…yes," Dumbledore answered cryptically. Jake had never noticed just how beautiful it was watching the sunlight gleam off of the surface of the crystalline lake.

_Don't…don't give up, Jake._

Bursting through his home front door once again, Jake failed to register any of the faces calling out to him from the living room as he sprinted up the stairs. He threw his empty backpack and a duffel bag on his bed, filling them with whatever essential clothing and items he could find. A bracelet and a few vials tucked away, the gray cloak crumpled, and his Galleon stowed in his pocket as ever, he zipped up the bags and walked to his window. Gazing down, he could see the tall wizard waiting patiently in the alley below.

Someone was banging on his door when he slipped through the window sill and slid down the rails of his fire escape. He approached the wizard, unsure of how the man was intending to travel without a broom but nevertheless swimming in his own exhilaration.

"You're certain, Jake? There is no turning back. Your friends and family will be hurt, they may even blame themselves," Dumbledore warned him.

"Don't worry, wiz. The way things have been lately…let's just say I know exactly who they'll blame." Dumbledore inquired no further and simply extended an arm out toward him.

"Hold tight, and be warned. It is not uncommon when apparating for the first time to become sick."

"Well it wouldn't be New Year's without a little puke," Jake joked, taking one last look up at his simple home. Soon, someone would lose patience and force their way into his room and find it disheveled with a hastily scrawled note on his bare desk, the words _I have to do this, I'm sorry_ written in his messy handwriting.

No, there'd be no confusion as to why he'd left.

He turned away and gripped the rough, woolly fabric of Dumbledore's coat sleeve and with a crack the alley was empty once more.


	21. Warranted and Unwanted

_He was walking down a drab hallway with peeling wallpaper, torn carpeting, and stains in the ceiling, an aesthetic that would have challenged the most dismal of motels. His short grandfather followed closely behind him, forlorn and expressionless but always there when Jake looked over his shoulder with worry. Sad little fluorescent fixtures provided meager patches of flickering light and the end of the hallway was coming into focus as they walked through the uneven darkness. Jake could see a cloaked figure with flaming red hair just turning the corner as they approached._

_His breath caught and he hurried his pace, turning the corner to find another long, empty hallway with no one in sight. He quickly continued on, looking over his shoulder to see his Dragon Master was following at a farther distance and watching Jake despairingly. Another split appeared ahead and another dark outline of a person just slipped passed the corner to the left, their messy black hair and glasses disappearing behind the moldy wall._

_Rushing forward, Jake found yet another corridor shrouded in darkness. He sprinted ahead recklessly into the ever growing darkness, seeming to make no ground until he spotted a door ahead standing slightly open. On the other side, a figure with curled brown hair slowly closed the door completely with a light_ thud _._

_Jake closed the distance and slammed into the door, it in turn opening readily and spilling him into an abyssal room. He shakily got to his feet looked around at the completely empty and unlit chamber as the door shut behind him. Dust filled the air and he searched around at the four bare walls in vain for any sign of life until he realized his grandfather was also absent. He spun around and threw the door open to reveal the hallway vanished and replaced by the same flat wall that covered the rest of the room._

_A high pitched cackling from behind drew his attention away from the false door and back to the previously empty space. Against the opposite wall stood a woman draped in flowing black robes with a matching headdress woven into her tight hair. She lifted her head to stare at him with wild eyes, but before she could say a word Jake dashed across the room and threw a furious punch at her face._

_Polished glass cascaded around him as his fist powered through the mirror, shards of the object digging themselves into the skin of his hand. He stepped back from the scene and twisted around to find a dozen more mirror copies of the woman all laughing at him throughout the room. He threw himself at the nearest target, and then the next, until he stood in the center of the room with torn clothes and warm, bleeding arms, the remnants of his assault forming a reflective sea around him._

_No matter where he looked on the floor, his own image was shown back to him, cracked and distorted by the pieces of mirror into terrifying illusions that were barely recognizable. He fell to his knees and tried to seal his eyes shut. A hand fell softly on his shoulder and he gratefully looked back up to find what he was sure had been his grandfather, here to rescue him like always._

"Gramps?"

"Try again," a smooth voice chided. Jake sat up groggily, finding himself tangled in sheets and shying away from bright light spilling in from the room's awning window. The fog of sleep seeping out of him, Jake began to remember why a well-dressed Englishman was watching him wake up, semi naked, in an unfamiliar bedroom.

"Yo, Stout, it's like seven in the morning," Jake yawned.

"Actually, it's noon."

"See! Way too early." Jake pulled the sheets back over his face, only to have them flung forcefully from his bed. He groaned loudly and sat up once more, trying to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes.

"You might have warned me about this, you know," Stout said displeased.

"If you don't want to see some boxers, then don't pull off the covers," Jake argued.

" _Not_ what I was referring to." Jake blinked up at the man to see him wiggling the fingers of both of his hands in the air. It took Jake a moment to examine his own hands and see that they were both those of his dragon self. He shook them out in puffs of fire to be replaced by ones much smaller and softer.

"Does that happen frequently?" Stout asked seriously.

Jake looked away, embarrassed. "If you mean just the _hands_ , then not really…"

Stout rubbed the back of his head, sighing softly, "That will take some thinking." As if flipping a switch, he suddenly brightened and clapped his hands together loudly. "Alright, enough dawdling, we've got just under a week to get you ready and I don't intend to waste a second." He swiftly strode out of the room and turned back to Jake. "You'll find the shower across the hall; I _strongly_ recommend that you use it."

Implied insults aside, Jake couldn't deny feeling much better as he stepped out of the steaming bathroom and dressed back in his bedroom with the few clothes he'd managed to pack. Checking himself in the mirror above the dresser, he noticed he'd forgotten to style his lengthy hair and cringed at realizing he'd forgotten most of his toiletries back in New York.

"He's gotta have a comb or something in here…" Jake scrounged through the room, searching shelves and opening drawers until he cracked open his nightstand cabinet and found it filled with clutter. He dug through the mess, passing over papers and odd little trinkets when a photograph fell out onto the floor. A freckled blonde woman smiled out of the picture with bright eyes, sitting in a plain sundress with a plump baby dozing on her lap. As he watched her, the woman lifted a hand to tuck a wandering strand of hair behind her ear while she cradled the child with the other.

"I would very much like to get started _today_ , if at all possible!" Stout called from a distant room.

Jake flinched and rushed to shove the scattered memorabilia back into the cupboard, shouting back, "Alright, I get it! Chill, yo!" Abandoning his search, Jake left the room and walked through the clean, if boring, home until he found the English Dragon reading a newspaper at the kitchen table.

"You seem surprisingly lax, considering our predicament," Stout derided from behind the black and white paper.

"Yo, you can't rush perfection Benjy," Jake laughed.

Stout lowered his reading material and fixed Jake with a distinctly unimpressed look. "I think we can both agree that you are _far_ from being an average young wizard, let alone perfect. For example," he gestured to Jake's tangled hair. "That simply won't do."

Jake dragged his fingers through the knots and responded, "That's it? I just need a comb and some gel, dawg."

"I was referring to the highlights," he sighed. "Even if they weren't reminiscent of your dragon form, they practically scream…well… _American_."

"And what's wrong with that?" Jake said defensively. He was annoyed to see Stout pinching his eyes with agitation.

"'What's wrong' is that you'll draw attention, Jacob. Every dragon knows that the key to infiltration is to blend in with the crowd." He grinned sadistically and lifted a pair of gleaming metal scissors from beneath the table.

Instead of complaining, as Stout no doubt expected, Jake simply rolled his eyes and took the seat next to him. "Whatever, I could use a trim anyway, but FYI it's not gonna help, Stout."

"I'm willing to try," Stout persisted, wrapping a towel around his neck. Jake sat stiffly, twitching away from the sharp instruments as Stout moved across his head and sheared away chunks of green-tipped black hair. "I'll admit, I was rather surprised that you agreed to go along with Dumbledore's little scheme," Stout commented aloud. When Jake gave no response, he continued, "What with abandoning your community and keeping the Council, even your own Dragon Master, in the dark. You must be quite motivated to see this through. It makes me wonder…"

"What about you, huh?" Jake snapped, pulling his head out of Stout's grasp to turn and look at him. "Fred's lying on a table in agony and you won't risk someone seeing him as a human, but Potter has a nightmare and now you're jumping to have me walk around like I own the place? What happened to 'protecting our race' and 'learning from history'?"

Stout's response was flat and cold. "This is different. You have no idea what You-Know-Who is capable of." Jake must have looked unconvinced as Stout breathed deeply and elaborated, "Decades ago when You-Know-Who rose to power, his army attempted to overthrow the Ministry of Magic in a long, horrific war." He looked over Jake's shoulder sadly, the latter turning to see a framed picture hanging from the wall of a much younger Stout and an older, gray haired man that reminded Jake of a grizzled bear.

"Countless people died; wizards, muggles, and magical creatures alike. The English Dragon at the time, my grandfather, owned a shop in Diagon Alley as his cover. He was closing down one night when You-Know-Who's forces, they're called Death Eaters, attacked the marketplace." He smirked grimly and chuckled. "The stubborn mule couldn't transform without someone noticing and he still managed to fight off half of the attackers before they got the better of him. The damage from their attack would have been terrible had he not intervened, but still…"

If felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing water over him. "Stout, I…I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Quite alright," he mumbled, nudging Jake's head forward and returning to his cutting. "He was a noble man, if overly proud and selfless to a fault. Not unlike Lao Shi."

Jake slouched and sat silently for a few minutes, trying to push down the regret building in his stomach. The snippets of hair were becoming smaller and less green when he confided in a rough voice, "I don't know if I can do this."

Stout responded cheerily, "Oh, I think you've got a fair shot…honestly, I do!" Jake had turned to look at him petulantly. "What matters most is your character, Jake, and trust me when I say that Dumbledore is nothing if not an excellent judge of character. Everything else is correctable."

"Like my hair?" Jake said testily.

"Exactly, and I think it turned out rather well." Stout dropped the scissors and pulled off the towel around Jake's neck before giving him a hand mirror. The bangs and sides were gone, leaving his hair just on the shorter end of how he usually wore it. "And not a speck of dye left, I might add."

"Oh it isn't dye," Jake commented.

"Well of course it's…" Stout gaped as he noticed the tips of Jake's hair slowly beginning to lighten into the familiar green color, "…bollocks." Jake couldn't help but laugh at the defeat pouring off of Stout.

"It just sort of happens," he explained while shaking his head and showering the table in a flurry of cut hairs. "Started around the sixth grade and I can't get rid of it. Black dye, bleaching, nothing. I guess you could cut it all off, but the Am-Drag doesn't do bald."

"You're just full of…" Stout groaned.

"Surprises?"

"…problems." Jake shrugged and Stout valiantly tried to regain his composure. "Fine! No matter, we'll simply have to work harder in the other areas."

"Other areas?" A haircut was one thing, but Jake wasn't all too comfortable with the determination in Stout's voice.

"As simple as I may make it seem," Stout applauded himself, "pretending to be a wizard is a many-layered thing. For example," he slickly pulled a wooden stick out from within his sleeve. "Our ability to channel magic through wands is unpredictable and shotty at best, but you still need to have one and act like you're using it to keep up appearances. We'll have to get you caught up on their lifestyle as well since wizards tend to live and behave like they're in the middle ages, something you're likely already a little familiar with. Then, of course, there's still the matter of your appalling vocabulary and identifiable accent…"

Another photo on the wall, however, had distracted Jake from Stout's tutelage. It was a formal, though conspicuously dusty, picture of Stout next to the same woman Jake had seen in the photograph from the cupboard, though neither of the subjects moved in this one. They stood happily, Stout wrapping his arms around her waist while they both smiled out of the frame.

"…and naturally we'll practice using a quill and ink. Bringing a _pen_ , hah, you may as well just transform in the middle of the Great Hall at dinner…"

"Hey Stout," Jake interrupted. The man looked over curiously and grew reserved when he found the point of Jake's interest. "Who's this chick? I saw her in another photo upstairs with a baby. Is she your sister or…?"

"Wife," he answered repressively, "but don't get off topic. We ought to…"

"Hold up, so that was _your_ kid? You never said you were a dad!" Jake laughed while clapping him on the back, confused as to why he appeared so somber. Stout looked away and left the room, grabbing a jacket draped over one of the table chairs as he went.

Jake walked after him and continued, "But hey, I guess it's not surprising that a smooth guy like you's got a family gig." Stout walked to the couch in the living room and grabbed a pair of leather shoes, ignoring Jake. Unperturbed, the teenager flung himself on an armchair and asked excitedly, "So when do I get to meet them? You know you can't keep a lady that fine from me forever, Benjy. I promise I'll be good!"

Stout straightened up stiffly from his shoes and fixed Jake with a worryingly vacant stare. His blue eyes weren't seething with anger or dripping with grief. They were just…empty. "They aren't here," he answered flatly.

"Yeah, I got that," Jake laughed obliviously. "So where are they? Visiting family for the holidays, right? Or not, well give me something here, yo! You're acting like someone…" And then the dark understanding hit him like a truck, catching the word in his throat. Left alone, he may have sat there frozen for an eternity, but Stout seemed to read his sudden shock.

"Died?" he finished coldly. He laced on his shoes before he stood and returned his unseeing gaze back to Jake, who still sat petrified in his chair. "You misunderstand. They're alive, Jake, or at least I hope so. I haven't seen either of them for almost sixteen years."

The technicality didn't ebb Jake's anxiety. "Why, were they kidnapped or something?"

Stout snickered joylessly. "No, nothing so dramatic. You see, after my grandfather passed I took up his mantle as the English Dragon. It quickly turned out to be too much for her. She left one night - well disappeared, more like. I tried to find them, but my lead pointed to somewhere in Spain. I had to choose between fulfilling my duties here and following after them. So…I chose."

He looked unfazed, emotionless, but Jake's mind was overflowing with pity and sympathy from his own experiences. He'd thought Stout a shining role model of a World Dragon, having his domain under his thumb with a successful career and a happy home. He wanted it to be true so badly that he'd missed what had been laid out before him from the start, that Stout was even more victimized by the role than Jake had ever been. If Benjamin couldn't make this life work, what chance, what hope, did he have?

A small smile developed on Stout's lips and helped distract Jake's racing mind. "I first met her at the Ministry when I was just starting out in my department, you know. She was a brilliant witch; could solve any problem with a flick of her wand and a grin. Well…anything except for me." Stout dropped his somber demeanor at once and again perked up spontaneously. "I said we weren't going to waste a second of this week and here you've got me telling stories like an old man. Enough chat, hurry up and put on some warm clothes!"

Taking a leaf from Stout's book, Jake did his best to stomp down his building misery and nodded rigidly before climbing the staircase to retrieve his own red jacket and shoes. Walking down to meet the English Dragon at the front door, he worked up his false optimism and asked aloud, "Alright, Benjy, What 'other areas' are we doing next?"

Stout laughed boomingly. "Why, the easiest ones to improve, of course! You'll need supplies: books, potions materials, safety equipment, all sponsored by our gracious benefactor, Dumbledore."

"Diagon Alley?" Jake guessed, fondly remembering his last visit to the twisting, turning marketplace.

"Diagon Alley," Stout agreed. He opened the door for Jake to pass by and quickly reached out to feel the cuff of his crimson red jacket. "And remind me to fetch you a new wardrobe while we're at it."

Jake yanked his arm out of his grasp. "Oh no, no way, Stout, that's where I draw the line. _No one_ messes with the threads." Stout rolled his eyes and followed the teenager out into the brisk London air, gently pulling the door shut behind him.

* * *

Mr. Weasley was alive, and about that much Harry was very thankful. The wounds were extensive, and his recovery had been lengthy, but the joyful man had finally walked through the doors of Grimmauld Place earlier in the afternoon, completely cured. The Weasleys were ecstatic, of course, and several other members of the Order had been dropping by throughout the day, most to give Mr. Weasley warm wishes.

One, however, had arrived for a very different and extremely unsettling purpose. Harry had hoped beyond hope that Mrs. Weasley was playing some poor joke when she informed him that Professor Snape was waiting in the kitchen to speak with him, but the sight of his imposing potions instructor standing by the fireplace had stolen away what little optimism he had. His godfather glaring at Snape as though he were a particularly grotesque fly in need of swatting didn't help ease his worries, either.

As the bat-like head of Slytherin house grudgingly explained, Dumbledore wished him to give Harry private lessons in a branch of magic known as Occlumency to help prevent his visions. Harry wasn't entirely sure what this meant, but Sirius heatedly questioned why the headmaster himself could not provide the lessons. Harry quite agreed with his sentiment, but before he knew it the argument had escalated dangerously and both men had their wands drawn, each looking eager to hex the other into oblivion. Had it not been for the entrance of the Weasley family into the kitchen, Harry had no doubt that they very well would have.

Sirius's continued morose attitude mixed with his new 'Remedial Potions' class and the promise of having to endure another term of Umbridge's pernicious aura made Harry understandably reluctant to leave the noble house of Black. There was also something else, a lingering terror from what he'd heard the Order members discussing when they'd all visited Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo's Hospital. While Harry and the others secretly listened with Fred and George's Extendible Ears, Moody himself had admitted to theorizing what Harry had dreaded since having the vivid nightmare: Voldemort was possessing him.

It had been enough to leave Harry speechless, lingering depressed and secluded away from the others. He may very well have still been in that pit of despair had Hermione and Ginny not talked sense into him. He'd never blacked out, never had long periods of forgetfulness, which Ginny – having experienced Voldemort's mind-bending influence first hand – claimed were essential signs of possession. It made sense, and it was a comforting argument, yet still Harry felt unclean, contaminated. It was in this mood that Hermione found him that night, lounging upstairs by a sleeping Buckbeak rather than enjoying their last day of break with Ron and the others.

"Up here again?"

Harry jumped, not having noticed her quiet entrance. He cursed softly before addressing her, "Sorry, Hermione, I didn't hear you come in."

She gave him a concerned look and moved to sit across from him. "Are you alright, Harry? Ever since Professor Snape left, you and Sirius have been so quiet. I'd think you'd be trying to relax before tomorrow."

"Easier said than done with everything that's going on," he answered sullenly.

Her expression fell with immediate understanding. "You know Dumbledore wouldn't make Snape give you these lessons if they weren't absolutely essential," she assured him. He merely turned back towards Buckbeak and lazily ran his fingers through the hippogriff's feathers.

"And what if it doesn't work, Hermione? What if the nightmares just get worse, or if the next time I see Voldemort attack someone it's through _my_ eyes?" he asked in distress.

"Harry, we've been over this. You-Know-Who never possessed you, and as long as you're at Hogwarts he never will. Dumbledore will make sure of that," she said firmly.

"Yeah, by making me take private lessons with _Snape_ ," Harry sneered. "At this point I don't even know if I want to go back to Hogwarts."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry, you know you've got to," she derided.

"Doesn't make it any better," he groaned. "I can't play Quidditch, everyone still thinks I'm a nutter, and now there's Snape on top of Umbridge. There's nothing left for me there."

"Of course there is, Harry! We've got our O.W.L.S. to think about!" Hermione corrected him, looking aghast. She quickly continued under his exasperated glare, "And don't forget the D.A. too! If you're not there to teach it, then there's no way anyone can hope to do well in Defense Against the Dark Arts on exams."

That was true and a welcome reminder for Harry. He'd nearly forgotten the plans he'd had for the first classes of the term and the new jinxes and counter-curses he'd lined up for them all. Snape's lessons would certainly make it more difficult for him to find time for the sessions, but he'd make it work if it meant perpetrating their rebellion against Umbridge's regime.

"Besides," Hermione added off-hand, "if anyone's going to be completely miserable it's Ron. Whenever someone brings up Quidditch, he looks as though he's swallowed one of Fred and George's Puking Pastilles."

"Johnson's never going to let us live that down," Harry sighed. "Even if Umbridge hadn't banned me, I probably wouldn't have time for Quidditch anyway."

"Ginny's lost again, Harry, you're up!" Ron's voice called out from one of the lower floors, followed by a squeal and the thump of something impacting a wall.

"Better make him happy while we can," Harry laughed, getting to his feet with Hermione and moving to leave the stuffy room. "More Wizard's Chess is as good a way as any to try and relax, I suppose."

"Though Ron's head may be too big to fit through the door by the end of the night," Hermione admitted.

To Harry's appreciation, time with the others did in fact greatly improve his mood that night, though Sirius remained sullen and reserved well into the morning after. Harry knew why, of course. Once they left, his godfather would once again be subdued to the small abode, alone except for the occasional Order member and his bigoted house elf Kreacher, who had only the previous night managed to reappear in the dusty attic after several days of absence. The elf's attitude and following disappearance had deeply worried Harry, who knew all too well the mischief house elves were capable of when they were properly motivated.

Yet still the problem remained that Sirius would once again be trapped and caged, a burden Harry knew was far too great for the brave man. Harry, however, had nothing to offer but words, but even those he was unable to provide as the home was a zoo of running bodies, everyone grabbing bags and readying trunks for their departure by Knight Bus. He'd been packing his things, and then helping carry parcels down the staircase, and he supposed he'd gotten breakfast at some point though he couldn't recall when or what he'd eaten, and now they were all suddenly about to walk through the front door into a foggy air.

Tonks and Remus were guiding them all outside when Harry at last spotted Sirius approaching him. Before he could speak, Sirius shoved a small postcard-sized package wrapped in brown paper into his hands, urging him while watching Mrs. Weasley, "Don't let Molly see this, I doubt she'd approve."

"Okay, but…what is it?" Harry asked, intrigued by the strange surprise.

"A backup plan, just in case Snivellus gives you any grief. This'll let you reach me so I can set him right," Sirius whispered gleefully. Harry pocketed the gift, but knew he would never use whatever it was. He'd managed to survive Umbridge without divulging her torturous punishments to anyone, and he'd already had plenty of experience tolerating Snape's harsh attention. No, Harry would sooner return to the Dursley's than admit he'd let Snape get to him.

"Thanks, Sirius, and listen. I…"

"No time, Harry," he said in a hush, pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Be safe, okay? And don't forget I'm here for you." Harry tried to think of some comforting farewell, something to make his godfather's isolation bearable, but he found himself being moved from the home, a brisk wind nipping at his neck as their small group walked out into the courtyard and came to a stop just in front of the cobbled road.

Tonks waved her wand hand out over the road. A loud _CRACK_ sounded and the infamous purple, double-decker Knightbus slung into view and came to a screeching halt in front of them.

"Wicked, I've always wanted to ride this thing," Ron laughed while they all hoisted their belongings into the crowded vehicle. Many of the seats were taken and their group was forced to split in two with Harry, Ron, and Hermione following Tonks up onto the top deck. As they walked, Harry couldn't help but shy away as everyone stared after him, particularly the pimply busboy that exchanged their sickles for tickets.

"This bus really is dreadful," Hermione complained as they sat themselves and she quickly latched her arms around the nearest handrail.

"What makes you say…" Ron's half-finished question answered itself as the bus promptly hurtled forward with another loud _CRACK._ The uniform buildings and courtyard outside were gone, replaced with a vague countryside that whirled past the windows with blinding speed. They were soon streaking through a small village, weaving around pedestrians and between buildings until they at last came to another peeling stop in front of a pub.

Harry relaxed his grip as the busboy helped an elderly woman out onto the street. Someone on the first deck audibly lost their breakfast, and he looked down and snickered at Ron, who had been quite unprepared for the harsh travel and was sprawled on the grimy metal floor.

"Shut up, Harry," he grumbled as he tried to get to his feet. Unfortunately, before he could find support, they had sped forward with another _CRACK_ , accompanied by new scenery hurtling past them. Though Ron finally managed to collect himself after their fourth stop, the jarring trip had lost its humor by the third. Tonks seemed to have similar thoughts and spoke with the busboy in a low voice, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as they were finally darting along the frosted streets of Hogsmeade.

They rolled to a stop in front of the metal gates to Hogwarts, Ron wasting no time and sprinting to the exit. Tonks sighed and grabbed his abandoned luggage while they all descended the small staircase to the bottom deck and followed the other group out onto the muddy road.

"Oh get a hold of yourself," Ginny scolded Ron as he stood bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing the highland air in heavily.

"Never…again…" he gasped, struggling to lift himself until Tonks tossed his belongings at him. Surprisingly, he managed to catch them without collapsing into the wet dirt below. _Now if he'll just do that on a broom_ , Harry thought.

"Alright, come along everyone," Remus corralled them, waving his wand and opening the gates to the school grounds while their ride careened away and off into the distance behind them. They all trudged slowly up the dirt road, dragging their trunks through the loose ground as the towers and halls of the massive school slowly grew with every squelching step they took. Despite the gloom and grime, Harry's thoughts were of a black shaggy dog, trapped within even bleaker surroundings in a distant, cold dwelling. The lump in his pocket from the small package reminded him of his godfather's own plight, of how miserable he was, and the troubles that awaited Harry ahead seemed much smaller.

He didn't need a 'backup plan'. If Sirius could shoulder his torment, then so could he.

* * *

After several minutes of intense scrutiny and careful examination, Jake had come to one absolute truth: it looked like rope. Well, like old, thin rope to be more accurate. _Very_ thin rope, actually, it couldn't be thicker than a shoestring, and it was pretty frayed, which made it rough and itchy to hold. What good would a weak little rope like this be? It tingled at his touch, something he'd felt before but couldn't readily recall. He felt like throwing it away, or setting it aflame, this silly little hoop of thin, wiry, itchy, repulsive rope.

"Alright, I give. What is it?" he conceded, dangling the ornament in front of Stout's face, who in turn quickly batted it away and jerked the steering wheel to avoid swerving into the next traffic lane.

"For Heaven's sake, Jake, are you _trying_ to get us killed?" he snapped, glaring sideways at the grinning boy in the passenger's seat. "I'll tell you, but first you must recite your background for me once more, _in character_."

Jake groaned loudly but obliged, clearing his throat before droning in a painfully terrible attempt at a British accent, "Good evening, my name is Jonathan Long. I am a wizard from Cardiff, born to a squib mother and muggle father. My parents refused to let me attend Hogwarts, but my uncle Benjamin Stout convinced them to let me stay for a term before taking my O.W.L.S. so that I could practice with the students and professors. Pip pip, cheerio, God save the Queen."

Were he not driving a vehicle and his attention demanded, Stout likely would have buried his face in his hands. As it stood, he gripped the wheel tightly and fought to refrain from speaking whatever was on his mind. "That bad, huh?" Jake asked despairingly.

"Oh, much worse," Stout said matter-of-factly. They came to a stop at a red light and he pointed a finger at the circlet still in Jake's hand. "As promised. That is a training collar, my old one actually."

"Training collar?" Jake asked. "Training for what?"

"For young dragons. Since you do not recognize it I'm guessing you did not encounter this problem, but some fledglings – my adolescent self included – have trouble controlling their dragon transformations when they first develop them. As you can imagine, it's difficult to continue mingling with the public if a pair of wings or a thrashing tail can appear at any moment, so they are given these collars by their Dragon Masters."

Jake looked down at the necklace, which still looked as feeble and mundane as before. "So wearing this itchy thing helps control your dragon powers?"

"I'm actually surprised you haven't picked up on it yet," he answered with a smirk. "There are a few threads of sphinx hair woven into the cord. Entire bundles of the vile stuff can completely drain our energy and leave us motionless, but this cord is much less potent and instead just makes accessing our powers more difficult, a perfect solution for curing spontaneous outbreaks."

The tingling sensation in his fingers repulsed Jake and he tossed the necklace to the floor of the car. "Now now, Jake, we can't have mishaps like what occasionally happens in your sleep. You are to wear this collar at all times, _no exceptions_. When you sleep, bathe, go to class, study, everywhere, is that clear?"

His commanding tone stopped Jake short of retaliating and he grudgingly nodded, picking up the necklace and dropping it over his head. He immediately felt its effects, like a twenty pound weight had been dropped on his shoulders and he'd gone a day without sleep. "Aw man, this is messed up, Stout! I gotta wear this thing _all_ the time?"

Stout laughed jovially, "Oh yes, and believe me it isn't pleasant at first but you'll grow accustomed to it. Now, as for your, erm…how to put this kindly… _speech impediment_..."

"I know I suck, okay? You were trying to be slick when you kept talking to everyone for me at Diagon Alley, but I'm not stupid. You don't have to try and sugarcoat it," Jake said bitterly.

"Well you'll be pleased to learn I've found a rather ingenuous solution!" They had just pulled up and parked in front of a large building with signs leading up to it reading _King's Cross Station_. Stout reached into his jacket and retrieved a small silver medallion, the size and shape of a half-dollar and blank except for some kind of carving on both sides that looked like a very angular letter B. "As they say, if you've nothing nice to say, best to not say anything at all."

Jake sighed. "It looks like money. What, you want me to bribe everyone?"

"I really should have just done this to begin with," Stout mumbled before reaching across and attaching the medallion to Jake's training collar by a clasp at its top. He then sat back in his seat and observed Jake expectantly. After a moment of waiting patiently, Jake prepared another snarky comment but found himself unable to voice it. He tried to yell it, then scream it, but he couldn't make a sound.

"Splendid!" Stout cheered before checking his watch and recoiling at what he saw. "That time already? Come along, Jake, you won't want to miss the train." He leapt out of the car and began removing items from the trunk, all while Jake continued to pound his armrest and kick the floor with the effort of trying to speak.

Stout was amused to see him climb out of the car red-faced and gesticulating to his throat, trying to mime the accusation of _Why the hell can't I talk?!_ He grinned with satisfaction and explained, "It's a silencing charm, my boy. I had that ornament enchanted so that anyone wearing it would be found speechless, unable to produce so much as a vowel. It's perfect, really. No one can discover you through your voice if you can't speak, can they?"

Jake pulled the necklace over his head and shouted unnecessarily loudly, "You could have told me ahead of time, dawg!"

"Ah, but it wouldn't have been as entertaining," Stout answered, enduring Jake's venomous glare as they piled his newly purchased belongings on a cart and wheeled it up to the doors of the station. While they passed through the initial gates and terminals, Stout said more seriously, "I know this will be difficult, Jake, but you must wear both the collar and charm at all times. Learn to communicate with gestures or write down your thoughts if you must, but this will keep you safe and hidden. You will seem antisocial and thus repel the attention of other students, and it also validates your poor magical abilities compared to normal student standards. Silent casting, after all, is a very difficult technique that most witches and wizards struggle with well into adulthood."

Though he didn't like the last minute change of plans, this new tactic had single handedly removed several of Jake's greatest concerns, and even he had to appreciate its elegance. "That's…great, actually. It's perfect, except…" his thoughts drifted back to the desires he knew he couldn't afford to indulge. _They can't know who you are, you know that._

"Except…?" Stout prodded.

"…except…nothing, never mind," Jake said dismissively, looking away at the various trains he could see at the platforms ahead. He could feel Stout's eyes boring into him as he resolutely avoided his gaze.

"You know, you never did tell me why you were so keen to take on this task," Stout reminded him. Just like before, Jake made no attempt at a response, not even sure of the truth himself, though Stout's intuition must have already worked out at least part of the answer considering the knowing smile he gave him. "It's a difficult thing we're fated to do; a cruel, unfair thing."

"Benjy…why didn't you leave? You know, chase after your family, live another life?" Jake asked carefully. Stout slowed his pace and buried his hands deep in his pockets, grinning sadly.

"I wanted to go, I _tried_ to go, but every time…something held me back. To leave my country without its dragon, to steal away its protector for the sake of my happiness, would have been truly selfish. I wanted to go, Jake…so much so that it pains me to this day…but I had to stay."

Jake scoffed in disdain, all too familiar with the sentiment. "Sounds right, like we ever have a choice."

"You're wrong," Stout barked. Jake looked up at him and shrank under the passion burning in his eyes. "We always have a choice, Jake."

They stood for a moment before he coughed and turned away from Jake, continuing down the length of the path between platforms nine and ten. The crowd had thinned a bit, and Jake had begun to recognize individuals that were clearly poorly disguised witches and wizards wearing hideous vests and mismatched clothing.

"We're nearly there, and now begins your silent pilgrimage," he announced, pointing to the necklace tucked in Jake's pocket. Reluctantly, Jake slipped it over his head once more and slouched under the burdening exhaustion, unable to voice even the most meager of complaints. They walked a short distance further before Stout guided him towards one of the stone pillars standing between the two platforms.

"I trust you recall how to find the train?" Stout asked, pleased to see Jake's nod in response. "Wonderful, well you go first and I'll be close behind." Obediently, Jake aimed his cart at the pillar and cracked his neck before pushing the luggage to a light jog and bracing in preparation for what would normally have been a disastrous, jarring crash.

Instead, a light breeze blew through his hair and he found himself surrounded by a moderate crowd of students and parents, all meandering around a crimson red train engine. It was so strange, standing amidst this crowd without towering over everyone and drawing their stares of curiosity or disdain. The fact that not a single person looked his way gave him a rush of inspiring courage. _This might actually work_.

"Well you're looking chipper," Stout commented, appearing beside him. "And you ought to tuck that in. The fewer clues, the better," he whispered while shoving the training collar and attached medallion beneath Jake's shirt. "Wand?" Jake tugged the flimsy stick out of his pocket and presented it. "Good, always keep it handy. Now what else…oh yes, nearly forgot." Stout reached once more into his apparently bottomless coat pockets and pulled out two small brown leather books, quickly handing one to Jake.

"If there's an emergency with our little psychic or your identity, find Dumbledore. He'll know what to do. Use this journal," he tapped the diary-like book in Jake's hand, "to get ahold of me for anything else. Whatever's written in one appears in the other, so we can keep in touch. The same policy as the collar goes for this: have it at all times and keep it hidden. Good?"

Jake shoved the book into this bag, uncertain of whether or not he'd need it but nevertheless exchanging it with a confident smile for Stout's sake. The man in turn smirked before growing unusually somber and whispering, "Any day now I expect to receive word of your disappearance from the Dragon Council. No doubt your family is trying to resolve the issue on their own, but a week is…well…they'll look for help soon. If you'd like, I can forge a letter for you, if there's…anything you want to tell them? Maybe to ease their worries, or…"

His chest ached with crippling remorse, but Jake shook his head stubbornly. When Stout looked to him imploringly, he reached beneath his shirt and tugged at the frayed cord, inclining his head to him. Stout interpreted the meaning of his gesture and sighed in resigned agreement. _The fewer clues, the better_.

The train whistle sounded and the families around them began giving farewells and parting as the students moved forward to board the train. "Alright, this is it," Stout teetered, his anxiety beginning to bleed through his renewed joviality. "Remember what's at stake, Jake, and know that I have complete confidence in you, so keep an eye on our friend Mr. Potter and _do_ try to enjoy yourself." Smiling broadly he genuinely laughed, "For you not to after all of our hard work would be a pity, don't you think?"

With that, Stout spun him around and shoved Jake toward the train steps, where he mixed with the line and slowly climbed aboard. The moment he turned into the carriage corridor and the walls surrounded him, Jake's courage immediately melted away. Without a plan or goal, he walked awkwardly along the hallway until he found the first empty room and hastily slid the door open to fling himself inside. Falling onto one of the seats, he searched through the window for Stout and felt his stomach turn as the English Dragon was nowhere to be seen. _Aw man. What am I doing, what am I doing, dammit Jake what'd you get yourself into?_

The carriage jerked forward and the platform slowly began to move backward in the window. Families waved goodbye and Jake could hear other students shouting back at them, but before long the station was gone and rural London was flying by instead. He fell back against the seat and thoughtlessly pulled out Stout's journal, rubbing his fingers over its bumpy surface. He'd been given so many tools and so much help from the man, far outreaching friendliness or even familial affection...

Jake dropped the gift into his bag and looked back outside in shame. His own agenda aside, Stout had shown him too much kindness, too much trust. How could he stand to foster someone like Jake, who went against everything he stood for, who didn't deserve this kind of support or caring?

How could he stand someone so selfish?


	22. The Better Part of Valor

The wavering lights in the cabin had begun to dominate as the sun slipped past the uneven horizon outside. After hours of travel, the clacking of the tracks below and gentle swaying of the carriage had melted into the background, as had the unwelcome sensations brought on by Jake's new pendant. Yet the trip had not been so lengthy as to dull his anxiety, and still he sat stiffly with tensed muscles and sweating hands.

In his defense, it was a uniquely stressful situation. Exams freaked him out, sure. Combating all manner of absurdly dangerous and unpredictable magical creatures occasionally terrified him, absolutely. But sitting here powerless, feeling as though he were trapped in a hornet's nest where the smallest mistake, a single toe out of line, would bring his doom swarming from all directions? No, Jake would take a rampaging manticore or stampeding centaurs over this torturous train ride any day.

The carriage jostled harshly and Jake looked through the door's small window to see several students rushing to and fro along the corridor. He thought maybe there was some emergency until he registered their joyful expressions and the smoothing of the train's constant shaking. _We're almost there? Already?_

What did he do? He'd flown last time, Stout never explained what happened after this! He wracked his brain, trying to devise some glimpse of a plan, when one of his mentor's very first lessons came back to him. _Every dragon knows the key to infiltration is to blend in with the crowd_ …

 _Blend in, I've gotta blend in_. He couldn't even think of where to start until the most obvious thought occurred to him: everyone was changed into their uniforms. _Clothes! Muggle digs are bad, right, so where did I…ahah!_ He pulled the dark set of fabrics from his bag and drew the blinds before rushing to throw on what he could, a task complicated by the intermittent jerks of the train as it came to a squealing stop. _Pants, belt, shirt, bath robe, got it…tuck this stupid itchy collar in, and don't forget the wand…_

Jake eventually left the cabin to see the majority of the train was already abandoned. Snagging his bag, he hurried out and down the train steps to find himself on a gloomy, lamp-lit platform in the middle of a forest. He looked around frantically until he saw the procession of students all flowing through the freezing air to mingle at a clearing near the tree line. As he approached, he noticed the area was filled with horse-drawn carriages that were each preparing to leave one-by-one up a long muddy road. Jake scoffed. _They really do act like they're Amish_.

The students were chatting the night away as they waited for an open seat, though what Jake managed to hear was pointless drabble about Christmas gifts, uncompleted essays, and Quidditch teams. His focus, however, wasn't entirely devoted to the task as he scanned the crowd, looking for the few familiar faces he knew he had to find before one in particular became the unwitting puppet of a magical lunatic.

The crowd casually moved forward and Jake soon had to postpone his search to climb aboard one of the carts, easing himself onto the seat. Groaning internally, he placated himself with silently staring ahead at the road's path and wondering in surprise what kind of creature was actually pulling them along as he considered the 'horse's' skeletal body, tight dark skin, and chilling bat-like wings tucked in at its sides. _Okay, so that's new_ …

"I like your hair," an airy voice commented beside him. He turned to answer, realizing he had unknowingly sat beside the girl Haley had befriended. _What was her name? Linda? Laura_? Forgetting the charm tucked beneath his shirt, he opened his mouth to speak and instead gawked at her awkwardly. The silver-blonde seemed unbothered by his vacant response and continued in a casual voice, "It's an interesting color. I've thought about changing my hair, but father says it attracts unusually pesky nargles."

Jake narrowed his eyes at her and quickly reached a hand up to his hair. _Attracts what-now? I do_ not _have lice, yo_. The cart wheels splashed through the mud while the only other person in their cart, a round, timid looking boy sitting across from Jake, who he vaguely remembered from the classes he'd observed, spoke up uncertainly. "Don't mind her, she was just joking. Right, Luna?" _Luna! That was it! Eh, Linda, Luna, same difference._

"Of course not, but you don't have to worry. Most nargles hide away in attics and shoeboxes this time of year," she answered plainly. Jake just stared at her, bewildered. _Is she being serious or what_? Luna looked up at the sky in the silence that followed, so Jake returned to staring ahead at the path, glad to see they were nearly at the top of the slope that led to the castle's main entrance. _Haley has weird taste in friends._

He could see where the carriages were all stopping near the doors to deposit the students when the girl again spoke dreamily, "You don't talk very much, do you?" Jake looked back to her, slightly annoyed. _Now I get why Hales liked you, you're just as big-mouthed as she is._ Her expression saddened gently, but she said unabashed, "It's alright, other people avoid speaking with me too. I've gotten used to it."

"That's not true, Luna," the other boy said quickly, and Jake abruptly felt guilty for his distanced attitude. He quickly waved both of his raised hands in denial and pointed to his throat, shaking his head. The boy watched quizzically before guessing, "You can't talk?" Jake nodded eagerly, and the boy smiled in understanding. "See, Luna? It wasn't…" He stopped short, seeing that she was staring off into space, removed from the conversation.

The horse-thing came to a stop and the three of them stood to climb down and join the throng of students walking toward the open castle doors, where bright light and warmth brimmed from within. As soon as they'd hit the ground, Luna immediately skipped off without any farewells, disappearing in the procession of black robes and cloaks. The other boy walked beside Jake, sighing lightly as they went. _I swear I know his name, too. Wasn't it something funny? Man I'm bad at this…_

"Don't mind her, she's just a bit…different," he explained, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion as he looked down at Jake. Worried, Jake inspected himself, trying to find what concerned the boy, when he clarified, "Sorry, I just didn't see a patch. You know…" He tapped his finger on his chest, over a red and yellow crest that Jake remembered specified him as a Gryffindor student. He then understood, however, that his own clothing lacked any such identifying marks. _I don't have a house? But I thought…and Stout never…_

"Mr. Long?" Jake jerked his head around towards the familiar voice and found the tall, hawk-like witch that taught Transfiguration standing just on the brink of the castle doors. Her stern gaze unnerved him, but he nodded numbly and approached her with the other boy still following. She lifted her head up in indignation at his approach but chose to address the other boy first.

"You may go, Mr. Longbottom." Jake was too intimidated to appreciate the ridiculous name and simply watched the boy nod quickly before scurrying away. The woman returned her attention to him, her eyes lingering over Jake's hair with a look of disapproving aversion, and he felt himself shrivel under her scrutiny. _There's no way she used to be this scary._

"I am Professor McGonagall, one of the many instructors here at Hogwarts. Follow me, this way." Jake unquestioningly did as he was told and the imposing woman led him wordlessly up stairs and through passages, though Jake paid no mind to their heading. He was preoccupied again with searching the halls and students they passed for any sign of the few people he'd been dying to see. He longed for one's friendship, was sworn to guard over the other, and the last…well…

"Licorice Snaps." Professor McGonagall's voice echoed down the corridor while the gargoyle statue in front of her came to life and hobbled aside, revealing a spiraling staircase behind it. They had climbed the first few steps when the stones rumbled violently and began slowly sliding upwards. After the initial surprise subsided, Jake smirked and rolled his eyes. _Escalators? Now that's just lazy._

He paused as they reached the top of the staircase and the witch knocked on a large wooden door before pushing it open and gesturing for him to follow. Jake walked uncertainly into a large room filled to the brim with books, paintings, and countless little devices and trinkets. His eyes were drawn to a shining, radiant sword displayed on one of the walls, the rubies inlaid in its hilt mesmerizing him until he was distracted by the appearance of a resplendently dressed wizard. Jake wasn't sure if he was more relieved or aggravated by the sight of his _gracious benefactor_.

"I'm glad to see you made it, _Jonathan_ ," Dumbledore greeted him warmly. Jake nodded to him, but the two were given no time for attempted pleasantries as the Transfiguration Professor waved her wand through the air and a boring little stool appeared with a soft _pop_.

"Please sit, Mr. Long," she instructed him. Eyeing the seat carefully, he obliged and sat on the stiff thing, facing the headmaster.

"It's a pleasure to include you among our students, even if it is only for a short while. As eager as I'm sure you are to meet your classmates, there is one thing we must do first," Dumbledore said ominously as he stood and slowly approached him. "Normally we perform this ritual in front of the other students, but in circumstances such as yours we find a private setting more prudent."

Jake stared at him in panic, his heart racing. _Ritual? I thought this was a school, not a cult!_ Dumbledore smiled still and nodded to his colleague, "Professor McGonagall?"

She waved her wand once more and a dusty old pointed hat rose off of a high shelf, zipping across the room to land in her outstretched hand. Without explanation, she promptly placed the headwear over Jake's hair, the brim sliding down and nearly covering his eyes. He sat cringing with his fingers digging into the wooden stool in tight grips, terrified of what was to follow but grateful that it so far involved no goat sacrifices.

The silence persisted and Jake hesitantly began to relax when booming laughter deafened him, nearly rocking him off of the stool. He looked around at the two professors accusingly, though both seemed to be watching him with silent interest, unmoving and tightlipped.

" _Is this a joke? Some scheme or ruse_?" the belligerent voice reverberated from inside Jake's skull. " _You are no wizard! Hmm, but no muggle either. I've never felt a mind like this before. Who are you? Or should I ask_ what _…oh I_ see _. Yes, now that_ is _intriguing_."

Even for dragons, hearing voices was never a good sign and Jake's teeth were gritted with trepidation. _What's going on, yo? Who's talking? What's 'intriguing'?_

The voice scoffed, _"Not very bright, then, and not a wizard, not even human! But…there is magic, no doubt. The potential is there…"_ The disembodied voice was arguing with itself, and Jake thought perhaps the supernatural world had finally driven him insane. _"You've certainly a strong heart. Very passionate, and very misguided, but such ambition! You're driven by fear, yes, but driven still…_

 _Shut up! Get out of my head!_ Whatever this 'ritual' was, Jake had experienced his fill. He reached a hand up to tear whatever this hat was off of his head when the voice snapped, " _Hands off, I'm not finished!_ " The hat's influence teased across the surface of his mind, like probing, ghostly fingers that tugged and pulled at his thoughts. He could feel it dredging up secrets that no wizard could learn, and others that even he wished he could forget. _Step off, yo! That stuff's none of your biz! You can't know, no one can know!_

" _Clinging to deception like a weapon, now that's not very_ _brave,_ " the hat derided. _"Yet you are here. Right…this_ is _unusual, but if the headmaster wishes it…I suppose I've let stranger through before. As for where you belong, well now that's_ quite _clear, no question_." He felt the oversized ornament shift above his head, its discerning powers pulling away, and heard the same voice skeptically ask aloud, "You are certain, headmaster?"

Dumbledore, who had been watching the interaction avidly, gave a slow, deliberate nod. The hat grumbled incoherently and announced, "Very well then, GRYFFINDOR!"

Professor McGonagall lifted the hat once more and replaced it upon its shelf while Jake stood quickly and looked imploringly at Dumbledore. The man remained as pleased as always, and only now did Jake's memories travel back to the end of last Summer, when they'd first arrived and he'd observed the Welcoming Feast from his solitary window. _Was that…did I just?..._

"And that's that. Jonathan, you will join Gryffindor House during your stay here, and Professor McGonagall here will be your Head of House. I encourage you to bring any concerns or worries you may have to her, _or myself_ ," Dumbledore said soothingly, intoning the ending with esoteric significance. "You'll find your belongings already placed in your dormitory. Dinner will begin shortly, I suggest you eat well and get plenty of rest before classes tomorrow. Professor McGonagall, if you would?"

"I'll see that he gets settled, headmaster," Professor McGonagall offered, ushering Jake back out of the office. Before the door closed completely, he turned back to see the bearded man smile and give him a last, fleeting wink.

Having the luxury of flight, Jake had never truly appreciated just how far the climb was to Gryffindor Tower. Professor McGonagall lead the way, explaining the rules and boundaries of the school, as well as the four houses and the point system they used to compete, most of which Jake already knew perfectly well. By the time they were standing outside the painting of the haughty, plump woman that guarded the round portcullis, Jake was red in the face and worn out. _It's gotta be this stupid necklace_ , he reasoned.

"This is the hidden entrance to the Gryffindor common room. A password is required to gain entry and will be changed frequently." She turned toward the hefty, gowned woman in the portrait and clearly said, " _Ab Incunabulis_."

The woman eyed Jake warily and responded, "You may pass," as her painting creaked forward, the large circular hole behind coming into view. Jake followed McGonagall's lead as they climbed through the entrance, acknowledging that if there was any upside to not having his dragon form it was being able to easily fit through the passage without feeling as if he were being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste.

"This is your common room," McGonagall said with a wave as he came through into the familiar, cozy room filled with comfortable furniture and a roaring fireplace. Several students inside had turned to watch their entrance with interest. "Here you may relax with your classmates and work on your assignments. Ah… _Mr. Longbottom_ , come here for a moment!" she called out to the far corner. Even with the silencing charm, it took a herculean effort for Jake to contain his amusement as the round boy answered Professor McGonagall's summons.

"Yes, professor?" he asked, grinning at seeing Jake and no doubt mistaking the quiet boy's trembling smile for a sign of friendly greeting.

"Mr. Long, this is Neville Longbottom. Mr. Longbottom, this is Jonathan Long, a new fifth-year student. I believe you two are already acquainted?"

"Well…we rode the same carriage from the train…"

"Good. Kindly show him where your dormitory is located and help him with navigating the school over the next few days," she ordered.

"O-Okay, Professor, I can d-do that," he stammered, apparently nervous of the new responsibility.

"Then I'll leave you to it. Any questions?" Both boys shook their heads and she gave a curt nod before turning back and leaving through the entrance tunnel. They stood there quietly for a moment, Jake looking once again around the room for familiar faces, until Neville worked up the courage to speak.

"So, er…Jonathan, right?" Jake turned back and nodded, but then considered it and shook his head. Neville tilted his head at the conflicting answers, so Jake held his hands at chest height and shoulder width apart before slowly bringing them closer together. Just like earlier, Neville looked perplexed before he said uncertainly, "Smaller?" Jake nodded, but the boy still seemed confused. "Er…what's smaller, again?" Jake jabbed a finger at his own chest. "You're smaller? Well, I suppose you're pretty short, but…" Jake shook his hands impatiently and imitated writing something in the air before repeating the other two motions. Unfortunately, Neville's face only contorted further with thought.

"I think he's trying to say his _name_ is short, Neville," a voice answered off to the side. Jake threw his hands up in victory and turned to thank the individual. The sight of her bushy, curled brown hair and sharp eyes, however, stopped him mid-step, frozen in time as though the world had simply stopped spinning.

"Oh, I get it! Thanks, Hermione," Neville said with relief. "This is Jonathan, by the way. He's a new fifth-year."

"New?" she asked curiously. "And short for Jonathan…so John, then?" Jake's mind was a pit of tar, his eyes wide and his mouth sagging open, yet somehow he managed to give a shallow nod. She looked concerned but offered a hand and cautiously said, "Alright…well my name's Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure." Again, some part of him managed to weakly clasp his hand with hers, followed by a painful silence. Her gaze uncomfortably drifted upwards. "Your hair is…interesting?"

Neville, blessedly, chose that moment to intervene. "Let me show you the dorm, John," he offered, and Jake quickly nodded before following after him, refusing to chance a look back at the single greatest threat to his secrecy in the entirety of Hogwarts. They travelled upwards through a tightly winding tower staircase, which unfortunately was quite motionless, until Neville lead him through a small side passage with a plaque on the wall outside reading _Fifth Years_. As they neared the door to the room, Jake could distinctly make out two familiar voices chatting just on the other side.

"Maybe we've always had six beds and just never noticed?" one proposed.

"So where do you suppose all of this stuff came from, then?" the other asked rhetorically.

"Hey guys," Neville greeted the two as he entered the room with Jake in tow.

"Oh, hello Neville," the tall boy with flaming red hair answered tiredly.

"Hey, Neville," the other boy with jet black hair muttered, looking away from the mysterious pile of belongings next to the unaccounted four-poster to face them, his face screwing up in fresh befuddlement. "Who's that?"

"Oh, right!" Neville jumped aside to give room for Jake to move into the room. "Harry, Ron, this Jonathan Long. Well, just John, actually, he's new."

Ron casually walked over first and shook his hand. "Name's Ron Weasley, pleasure."

"Ron's a prefect, so he can help with any problems you have, too," Neville clarified. Ron stood a bit straighter, the recognition inflating him. Jake nodded and smiled at him, thinking of the entertaining evenings they'd spent down at the Quidditch pitch before turning to the much more reserved observer.

Harry crossed the small room, extending a hand as he went but never wavering from his guarded demeanor. "Harry, Harry Potter." Jake shook it stiffly and nodded, watching the boy who was only barely taller than him for any sign of danger, any hint that he'd arrived too late. All he found, however, was a scrawny wizard with messy hair and the lamest glasses he'd ever seen.

"Right, well I'm going to dinner before they put out the pudding," Ron announced, shoving his way out of the room with Harry and Neville following suit. His voice carried back up into the room, " _Well he's a quiet one, isn't he?_ "

Jake paused, looking sadly at the room filled with beds, clothes, and a small furnace heater. As homely as it appeared, he'd never felt so out of place and alien. _Great job, Jake. You finally got what you wanted._

"Hey John, are you coming?" Neville asked, poking his head back into the room. Jake nodded with a fake smile and moved to join him on the staircase. The last thing he was worried about was dinner, but he needed to get his head straight and now could at last start doing what he'd set out to do a week ago.

Jake wasn't going to let Harry out of his sight.

* * *

"Well it's unusual, isn't it?" Hermione asked Ron and Harry. They were trudging towards their first class of the semester and none of them were particularly chipper in the early morning air.

Ron gave an annoyed sigh before answering, "What, Hermione? What's _unusual_?" When she didn't respond, he looked over to see her staring intently ahead where Neville was leading the new boy further down the hall, talking incessantly about whatever came to mind as he had been all morning. "You mean John? I don't know, compared to Tonks it isn't that strange."

"Compared to…?" She groaned audibly. "Not his _hair_ , I mean him being here at all! I don't think we've known a student that hasn't been here since their first year."

"Didn't one of the second-year Hufflepuffs just start last term?" Harry asked.

"You're thinking of Valery Cobbler, but she had Dragonpox her first year, it hardly counts," Hermione dismissed him.

"I'm just glad McGonagall didn't stick me with having to show him around everywhere. Poor Neville's probably going mad." Ron commented.

Neville's voice carried down the hallway, excitedly yammering, "…and when we get to Herbology you'll see the Fanged Geraniums, they've got these fantastic stalks and their incisors are just coming in…"

"Poor Neville?" Harry chuckled. "He's having the time of his life. Poor John, more like. I'll be surprised if his ears haven't fallen off by lunch." The two ahead of them turned the last corner and were about to walk through the door to History of Magic when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from behind them.

"Harry!" He turned around to see a beaming Cho Chang approaching, his stomach feeling as if it had plummeted ten feet. Hermione grabbed Ron roughly by the arm and dragged him, despite his loud protesting, away towards the classroom where John was waiting for them with the door open.

"Hey Cho," Harry trembled, turning back towards her. "How...er...how was your break?"

"Oh, it was boring, mostly. Do you know...who's that?" She looked with narrowed eyes over Harry's shoulder where John had evidently dropped his bag and was kneeling down to pick his spilled belongings up at a glacial pace.

"That's John, he's new," Harry answered thoughtlessly. "So what were you going to ask?"

She stared for a moment longer before looking back to Harry dreamily. "What was…oh, right! Since it's the first day back, are we going to have a D.A. meeting tonight?"

"I can't tonight, I…" Harry hesitated, having to bite back the bile in his throat, "…I've got Remedial Potions." The look of disdain that crossed her face made Harry feel like screaming and burying his head in the ground all at once.

"Okay, that's alright. I'll keep an eye out, then. See you around, yeh?" She smiled and gave him a wave as she walked back down the hall, and he returned it gracelessly. Harry's chest rose like a hot air balloon and he turned back to see John just slipping into the room as he neared, grinning and shaking his head.

The euphoria carried him through History of Magic and down the steps towards the dungeons as they traveled to double Potions. Professor Binns, in his usual display of ghostly despondence, had failed to even notice the additional body in the room, but it was readily apparent from his biting glare that Snape would not be as oblivious.

"Today you will be brewing the Draught of Peace, which you will find on page seventy-eight. You have two hours. Begin." Snape's flat demand set them all about their work in a flurry of cauldrons and ingredients. The instructions were simple enough and Harry took care to follow each step thoroughly. Snape would no doubt torment him later that night, the last thing Harry needed was more pointed hatred in front of the rest of the class.

When half the period had passed, Harry was waiting for his mixture to stew and begin sparking before adding the next ingredient. He passed the time by cleaning his area, though his attention waned and drifted to the table in front of him, where Neville worked alongside their new classmate. At this point in the lesson, Neville would normally have spilled several vials or set his potion aflame, yet he was perfectly calm with a simmering concoction that matched the book exactly. Harry was awed by the improvement until he saw Neville's cauldron beginning to produce swirling black fumes. John hastily nudged him and mimed a clockwise stirring motion, which Neville promptly enacted. The fumes subsided and he breathed a grateful _thank you_ to his partner.

"And who…are you?" Neville shriveled under the sinister tone, but John looked happily up at the ominous instructor, who had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and pointed an uncertain finger at himself. Snape cocked an eyebrow and John quickly pulled a scrap of paper out of his bag, along with a quill and ink. Harry could almost feel the ire emanating from Snape as he watched the boy scribble down a few words and hand the note to him.

He snatched the paper and glanced at it briefly before tossing it back down on the table. "Jonathan Long?" His lip curled, a devilish look crossing his face. "Tell me, Long, is it common practice in your home to be disrespectful and not address your professors appropriately?"

John shook his head defensively and bent down to write another note, but Snape tore it away and crumpled it in his hand before he could finish the first word. "Insist on acting like a speechless mutt and I will gladly treat you accordingly."

John just stared at him blankly, which was likely for the better. Retorts only infuriated Snape's malice, a fact they all knew but Neville somehow forgot as he interjected timidly, "B-but Professor…"

"As for you, Longbottom," he targeted the paling Gryffindor. "One more tip from Long and it'll be detention for the both of you. There will be no _assistance_ on your O.W.L.s, nor shall there be any in my class, do I make myself clear?" Neville, who was doing a decent impression of a turtle retreating into its shell, whimpered what sounded like a choked _Yes, sir_.

" _Harry!_ " Hermione's hissed whisper interrupted his focus long enough for him to notice his cauldron had gone far beyond sparking and was showering his table in a downpour of bright flares. He hurriedly doused the solution with his entire sample of Snarfalump Sap, curing it of the fireworks display but also turning it a sickly green instead of the desired shimmering blue.

"Potter." Harry knew his fate was sealed the moment the steam cleared to reveal his deliverer leering down at him with barely contained satisfaction. "I see you've wasted no time in demonstrating your blatant inability to brew even the simplest of solutions." He flicked his wand out and vanished the contents of Harry's cauldron, sneering fiendishly as he strode away. He announced loudly, "We'll have plenty of time tonight in Remedial Potions to review where and how you were so clearly…incompetent."

Malfoy and his cronies snickered loudly while the rest of the class looked away, avoiding Snape's attention as he returned to the front of the room. Harry glared at his empty cauldron and furiously packed up the remains of his assignment. Dropping his scales in his bag, he stood and stomped out of the room, ignoring Hermione's sympathy but having the unshakable sensation of being watched far more closely than he would have liked.

Lunch afforded him some respite with his friends and a meal, at least until more D.A. members began approaching to ask about when their next meeting was going to be. Harry worked hard to control his temper and not loose his building frustrations on them, though Zacharias Smith in particular made it a difficult task as he laughed uproariously at the thought of Harry having to take extra lessons from Snape. Harry had never so eagerly left the Great Hall for Divination. As it happened, trying to predict the weather or his impending doom from sticks thrown onto the floor failed to improve his mood, and he didn't need a prophecy to know what their next lesson promised to bring.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is last. That's with Professor Umbridge." Neville's glum narrative resounded from behind Harry as they walked down the hall. John must have responded somehow as Neville continued, "You already know her?" There was another pause, and then, "Well I don't blame you; she isn't a very pleasant woman." Harry reached the classroom door first and opened it for the others, looking to John out of curiosity and finding him positively livid, far angrier than even when Snape had been berating him. He found himself wondering what Umbridge could have done to earn such overwhelming contempt.

"We usually just read, she never lets us do any magic in class," Neville sighed while they sat. The news didn't appear to change John's attitude and Neville blundered on, "It's alright, though. We manage to learn on our own, and we get loads of help from the…"

" _Textbook!_ " Hermione yelled, putting a hand firmly on Neville's arm and repeating in a menacing tone, "We get loads of help from the _textbook,_ right _Neville_?" Harry wanted to hug Hermione for catching the slip, and Neville's eyes were wide as dinner plates at realizing his nearly disastrous mistake. The sound of the small woman entering from her office distracted them all and they waited in punctuated silence as she waddled towards the rows of desks on her short legs. The holiday away had dulled Harry's memory of Umbridge, her powdered face seeming far more repulsive than he had recalled.

"Good afternoon, class," she greeted them sweetly.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they all responded in unison, not counting John, of course, who instead sat staring silently at their professor, his face twisted like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Wands away please," she announced, focusing in on John and staring intently at him despite the fact that his wand was nowhere in sight. She held the look for an abnormally lengthy period before continuing, "I hope you're all rested and ready to learn after your break. Please turn to page ninety-four of _Defensive Magical Theory_ and read the ninth chapter, entitled 'Universal Etiquette in Avoiding Intercultural Conflict'. There will be no need to talk."

The room fell into a chapel-like atmosphere of unnatural silence, interrupted only by the gentle brushing of turning pages. After only a few minutes, however, Umbridge's girlish voice pierced the illusion.

"Mr. Long?"

Harry's head lifted from his book. John continued to study the chapter in front of him for a moment longer before reluctantly looking up to Umbridge questioningly. Smiling, she held out her hand with her index finger wagging towards herself. He grimaced at the gesture and walked towards her desk stiffly, coming to a stop just in front of her.

Her grin spread even wider. "Your name is Jonathan Long, correct?" John nodded. "And you are the nephew of Benjamin Stout, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?" He looked surprised but nodded once more, and Umbridge narrowed her eyes vehemently. "Yes, the headmaster informed me of your background, along with your... _mundane_ family. Well, Mr. Long, I don't know how you were taught to behave in your _muggle_ home, but here you will answer me with either a 'Yes, Professor' or a 'No, Professor', is that understood?"

"Bloody hell, here we go," Ron groaned off to Harry's side. John just shook his head shortly and Umbridge tilted her head with a frown like she were indulging a five year old.

"No?" she asked with insincere confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, my dear. Are you _refusing_ to follow our rules?"

Neville's hand shakily lifted into the air, though Umbridge ignored it and watched curiously as Jake pulled a folded slip of paper out of a pocket in his cloak and handed it to the Professor. She took it gingerly and read through the short message that explained his circumstances, an idea that Neville had suggested after their debacle with Snape. Professor Trelawney had been pacified by the tactic, but the same could not be said for Umbridge as her devilish grin resurfaced, even more twisted.

"I see. Very well Mr. Long," she smiled, dropping the note back in front of him. "I can be flexible if needed. Since you cannot speak, you will instead respond by placing your hands on top of your head for me. One hand will be taken to mean 'Yes, Professor'," she rested one of her sausage-fingered palms over her hair, brushing against her velvet bow, "and two will be for 'No, Professor'," she lifted her other hand and settled it above the first. "Is _that_ understood?"

" _Unbelievable…_ " Hermione hissed, striking her own palm up into the air, but Umbridge's attention was centered solely on watching John. The back of his neck burned red as he gave another jarred nod.

" _Ah ah ah_ ," she hummed. John's arms tensed at his sides, and Harry thought he might actually take a swing at the woman. Instead, he brought up his right arm and slapped his hand on top of his head, flattening his spiky black hair.

"Much better, and do you have any questions?" He stiffly piled the other hand on top of the first. She smiled and chimed, "Wonderful. You may be seated." John quickly returned to his seat, his shoulders slouched and head bent low to hide his face. Hermione dropped her hand and angrily returned to her book with crossed arms while Neville continuously sent apologetic looks in the newcomer's direction.

None of them could leave the room fast enough when the lesson ended, having the good sense not to discuss Umbridge's little demonstration. Even Neville's constant ranting had wilted into bland remarks about homework and the weather, and John managed to seem even more reserved. Harry himself was only growing more anxious as the evening wore on, and by the time they were leaving the Great Hall after dinner he felt nothing but debilitating dread at having to see Snape once again.

"We'll be in the common room when you're done," Ron said comfortingly. Hermione attempted a reassuring smile but only managed a lopsided grimace as if she'd just stubbed her toe. Over her shoulder, Neville and Seamus were climbing the stairs with John, who was looking intently back at him with a troubled expression. Harry nodded to his two friends in silent resignation and turned away towards the dungeons, knowing delaying Snape's summons would only make matters worse.

When there was no answer at his knocking and he entered Snape's office to find it empty, his mind had leapt with impossible hope. Perhaps Snape had been whisked away for some urgent Potions crisis, or maybe he'd even fallen from the viaduct if Harry were truly lucky.

The door slammed shut behind him, the following gust of air chilling Harry to the bone.

" _Sit_ , Potter."

* * *

Jake sat in a corner of the crowded common room, his quill readied and a fresh roll of parchment laid out before him to be filled with his essay on seventeenth century Merpeople Colony Fragmentation. He'd been hunched over the assignment for nearly an hour, however, and still the only mark remained the splotch of ink that had slowly dripped from his dangling feather. The room was filled with hollering and laughter as the Weasley twins demonstrated their latest merchandise, but that wasn't quite what had delayed Jake's work.

"You alright, John?" Jake looked up absently at his tour guide, Longbottom, who sat next to him with the same look of pained embarrassment everyone had worn after their class with Umbridge. The boy wrung his hands, his droopy eyes not quite meeting Jake's. He hated seeing the others pity him, like he were some sad puppy being kicked around, but it did help inspire his vengeful side. Even without his bag of toys and partner in crime, Jake still intended to school Umbridge the first chance he got.

He smiled and gave Neville a thumbs-up, whose eyes in turn widened with misunderstanding. Fumbling for words, he stuttered, "Oh…good! I thought that…well, you seemed quiet and..." Jake perked an eyebrow testily, and Neville's face flushed beet red. "I mean…more than…well…"

 _C'mon, this is too easy._ As funny as teasing the timid boy was, Neville had been the one to show him the most kindness so far and Jake felt he owed him at least for that. He waved his hand dismissively and scribbled _Thanks_ onto a shred of paper before handing it to him. Longbottom noticeably relaxed after reading it skittishly and flashed a halfhearted grin before returning to his own piecemeal pile of assignments.

He appreciated Neville's concern, but in truth Jake was more cheerful than he'd been in weeks. Umbridge was a pig like he'd expected, and he'd quickly come to see why everyone detested Snape nearly as much, though Potter had certainly gotten the shorter straw in that class.

Compared to everything else, though? Returning to the magical world without people giving him sideways glances? Going back to classes that he actually enjoyed taking with students that already knew him for who he really was, even if they didn't know it? It didn't really matter that none of his friends recognized him; in fact it was the most empowering part of this whole endeavor. He'd never believed it possible, but with Stout's help he'd managed to escape to the one place he didn't feel like he was being judged or chastised, where he didn't have to try and meet outlandish expectations.

But that was it, wasn't it? He slouched as another wave of self-loathing came over him. This was nothing more than a breakout for Jake, his irresponsible need to be rebellious and go AWOL. Oh, he'd made a promise to Dumbledore, and felt compelled to return Stout's kindness, but the root of it all? Stripping away the fat, getting down to brass tacks? He wasn't helping others conquer their obstacles; he was fleeing from his own.

A fresh round of clapping began as George's head vanished after donning a hideous pointed hat, jerking Jake out of his trance. He slapped his forehead, agitated. _You gotta snap out of it, yo. You know it's not that simple! Even you're not that big of a jerk._ His focus drifted over to the fireplace, where Ron slouched on the couch, grimacing at his essay with a dumbfounded expression, while Hermione sat reading a book in her armchair. The sight of her made his pulse race like it always did. _You're here to stop Chang, and to protect your friends, too! And don't forget about…_

Hinges creaked within the entrance tunnel as the Fat Lady's portrait swung forward. _Speak of the devil_ , he thought as Harry's form wearily crawled out of the hole in the wall and walked through the mass of students to join his friends by the fireplace. Jake had kept a close watch on the boy all day and, even though he had no clue _how_ to tell if Potter finally snapped, he'd seemed pretty sane so far. Even under Snape's irrationally pointed prejudice, Harry had kept his cool, which Jake readily admitted was a marked improvement from the beginning of the year.

Having to distance himself from Potter following dinner hadn't been ideal, but after completing their Potions lesson that morning without so much as a spilt grain of Powdered Monkshood, he sincerely doubted Professor Snape would ever allow him to join Harry for Remedial Potions. Seeing Potter now, however, Jake decided it was probably for the better. The poor kid looked like he'd just come back from war, and the severe expressions on Ron's and Hermione's faces as they spoke with him in hushed voices weren't too comforting either.

 _Now that looks way too juicy to pass up._ Neville was bent low over his papers, his nose occasionally smearing the ink, and nearly everyone else in the room was shoving closer into the far corner to catch a better glimpse of the twins' display. _No one's looking; it'll be a piece of cake._ Were he here, Stout would no doubt berate him for even considering this course of action, but Jake couldn't resist satisfying his curiosity and carefully lifted up the hood of his robe to conceal his face.

He cupped the right side of his head with a hand and thought intently, _Ear of the Dragon_. Sparse tingling pricked along his skin, but the same fleshy human ear remained. He scowled in frustration. _Stout wasn't joking, it's like I'm back in middle school with this whack collar on._ He redoubled his efforts and shouted in his mind, _Ear of the Dragon!_ An appeased grin pulled at his cheeks as his hood distended slightly and the previously cacophonous room warped into reverberating clarity.

Every sound was perfectly isolated and crisp, so much so that he could even make out individual pops from the crackling fireplace, but it was still exceptionally difficult for Jake to sift through the rampant cheering and neighboring discussions to fixate on their group. Classmates comparing notes, girls gossiping about boys, boys whispering about girls, the mind-numbing medley was making his head ache. _Ugh, It's like playing Where's Waldo, Soundtrack Edition_.

"…the Department of Mysteries, it's got to be…" Harry breathed excitedly. Jake snapped up and immediately dialed in on him, straining to make out their words.

"Of course, it makes sense for…" Hermione began.

"AND OFF AGAIN!" George's voice boomed. Jake recoiled from the deafening yell, clinging to his hood. He shook his head and tried to fish through the sea of voices to find the three fifth-years' closed conversation again.

"…through a door at the Ministry of Magic, it's got to be that one!" Hermione whispered.

"And that woman was after it too," Harry added. "Did your dad ever mention her, Ron?"

"Only said she wasn't with the Ministry," Ron muttered. "Odd place for a weapon, though…"

 _Say_ what _now? What weapon do the wizards have that the Dark Dorkasaurus wants?_ Jake tried to remember every detail of their conversation, but he couldn't recall Dumbledore ever mentioning Chang being after a weapon. Maybe he wasn't aware? _No way. If there's a weapon, then Dumble knows about it._ Though Stout and even the Council revered the man, Jake had the sinking feeling that a certain headmaster was playing him for a fool.

"Yeah…I'm fine…" Harry groaned. Jake barely caught the comment and quickly turned back to the conversation. "I don't like Occlumency much."

"I expect few people enjoy having their mind attacked," Hermione cringed. Her next thought was cut short as Fred promptly shoved one of their enchanted hats on Harry's head, the room falling into laughter at the sight of a headless Potter. Harry tore it off and shoved it into Ron's arms before springing rashly to his feet.

"Come on, Harry, get the gnomes out of your trousers!" George teased him innocently. Harry turned away and walked towards the dorm tower, rubbing his temple carefully.

"I'm not feeling well…" he murmured, disappearing up the staircase. The twins shrugged and went back to their show, but Hermione and Ron both looked troubled, a sentiment that Jake couldn't ignore.

"Done for the night?" Neville asked as Jake shoved his materials in his bag and stood to leave, hastily patting down his distorted ear in a puff of flame and lowering his hood. He waved limply to Neville and chased after Harry, climbing the stairs swiftly until he saw the tail of his robes swirl beyond the door to their dorm. Jake paused at the fringe. _I don't want to creep the dude out, maybe I should chill for…_

"AAAAA _AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_ Harry's voice cried out wildly in agony. Jake tensed and slammed through the door, sprinting inside where Harry was writhing on his back with his hands clamped to his forehead. The flailing legs and tortured yelling dispelled any doubt in Jake's mind and he leapt into action, just as Stout had trained him to.

 _Disarm him_. He dug into Harry's pants pocket and wrenched out his wand, throwing it across the room. _Subdue him_. Jake flipped the twitching boy onto his stomach and pulled both of his arms behind his back, holding both wrists in a powerful grip. _Control him._ His free hand pressed Harry's head firmly sideways against the floor. The boy's glasses had fallen off, and there was something deeply wrong with his frenzied behavior.

 _You're not going anywhere, you…wait…is he_ laughing _?_

" _Oi!_ What's going on?!" Jake snapped around to see Ron standing in the doorway, watching with mixed fear and anger. Barring any remotely plausible explanation or a way to communicate it, Jake took his hand off of Harry's head to wave Ron away, urging him to leave. Instead, the boy hurried forward to pry Jake off of him and helped the shaking Gryffindor to a sitting position. "Get off him you loony! What's wrong with you?! Harry? Harry!" Potter was still cackling hysterically, his hands once again clawing at his head.

Ron grabbed the scruff of his shirt and smacked him, hard. Harry abruptly fell into labored breathing and looked around him in a daze, an angry red welt blossoming on his cheek. "You alright, mate?" Ron asked, holding him steady by the shoulders. "Was it… _him_ , again?"

After a moment, Harry nodded tiredly. "Yeah, it was him. He's...happy, the happiest he's been in years. I don't know what about, but I thought I saw…" His searching hands finally found his glasses and, returning them to the bridge of his nose, he looked up at the second observer he hadn't noticed watching him fearfully. "John?"

Ron twisted his neck to glare at him accusingly while Harry stared at him in bewilderment. Suddenly, all of Jake's careful acting and calculated decisions seemed to crumble around him, and the welling panic in his stomach told him that his undercover operation had just become significantly more…problematic.

_…Aw man…_


	23. Out of the Cauldron, Into the Flame

"Are you kiddin', gramps? What's this got to do with Jake?" Lao Shi pulled the newspaper out from the dog's hands and stabbed his finger at the article on the front page.

"This has _everything_ to do with Jake," Lao Shi answered with determination. "He has been troubled ever since Chang escaped us, and I dread to think what lengths he'll go to for a chance at redemption."

Fu Dog gave an unconvinced sigh, rubbing his paws through the cavernous wrinkles lining his face. "We looked high and low for their crew, and we didn't find squat. For all we know, the Dark Dragon could have high-tailed it months ago, the kid knows that!"

"Which is why he would think beyond New York City, as we must," Lao Shi explained. He stepped down from his perch atop a bar stool inside the cluttered electronics shop and walked through the room, gathering up various provisions as he went.

"I'm all for that, but c'mon old man, the UK? It could just be more yellow journalist gossip; their paper is so slanted a mountain troll wouldn't climb it! " Lao Shi ignored his objection, scooping up clothes and alchemical ingredients into his bag. "Listen, he's a kid," Fu Dog persisted. "Even you remember what that's like. He probably got fed up with the dragon gig, or school, or girls, or a million different things! Point is, this is probably good for him. He'll come back when he's ready."

"Will he?" Lao Shi asked doubtfully. "We all need our peace at times, but a week is too long, even for Jake. He has a life, responsibilities, family..." He stared at a picture of his grandson and himself, sitting on the beach at the Isle of Draco when they'd first gone together years ago. "He is headstrong and a handful at times, but Jake is also dependable. To be gone this long..."

Fu Dog rested a comforting paw on his shoulder. "Gramps..."

"It's my fault, Fu Dog." He shrugged off the gesture and a small bell chimed as he opened the front door, the pattering sounds from the rainstorm outside seeping into the room. The downpour gave him an excuse to bow his head low without showing his shame. "I pushed him too hard, I was too critical...but I am his Dragon Master, and I _will_ fix this."

"And what if he's not there and you get jumped by them, huh? What then?" the Shar Pei argued, standing on his hind legs with his front paws crossed.

"Then I will finish what I started thirty years ago," Lao Shi answered in a heavy voice.

"By yourself? Face it, Lao, even you're not that good. It'd be suicide! At least get help from the Council!"

"No!" he snapped. "The Dark Dragon may not yet be aware of Jake's absence, and we must work to keep it that way. The other World Dragons cannot be involved. For Jake's own good, we... _I_...must do this alone."

Fu Dog raised his voice to plead further, but Lao Shi walked out into the rain and shut the door behind him. If he knew his grandson half as well as he thought he did, then there would be one thing on his mind, an obsession that Lao Shi himself was partly to blame for. The only problem had been knowing where to look, but now, thanks to the enchanted newspaper tucked beneath his arm, he at last had a lead to follow.

He could only hope that he would not be too late.

* * *

Harry's head still ached from the previous night. At its worst, the flaring pain from the vision had been excruciating, almost as terrifying as the surge of foreign emotion that had dominated his consciousness. Even though it had wilted to a dull twinge since then, he still felt uneasy, reaching his hand up again to rub the tender scar.

"I was worried something like that might happen," Hermione sighed, looking to Harry apologetically. They were walking down the staircases to breakfast and she had bit her lip while listening as Harry and Ron explained what had transpired in their dormitory. "With Snape attacking your mind during your lessons, your defenses were bound to be weakened. That's why I sent Ron after you last night, just to make sure you were alright."

"Good thing I went," Ron sneered. "Can't call being sat on by a nutter 'alright', can you?" He craned his neck back to glare behind them where Neville walked beside John and Seamus, ranting away about their coming classes and completely oblivious to John frowning at his shoes.

"Leave it, Ron, it was nothing," Harry said in a low voice. "John looked as scared as you, maybe he was trying to help."

"Is that what that was, helping?" he guffawed loudly. "I'm telling you, he's taken a jinx to the head or…" Hermione threw him a reprehensive look and he fell into quiet grumbling as they walked into the crowded Great Hall.

Students lined the tables, bent low in huddled groups and whispering quietly with all signs of the usual morning conversation vanished. They found an open space and ate their breakfast while Harry looked around, disconcerted by the unusually guarded atmosphere. Even the staff members at the head table appeared unnerved. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall spoke intently with one another while Umbridge cut away at her grapefruit, looking sideways at the other professors venomously.

"I wonder what's got everyone on edge," Hermione thought aloud. A tawny owl swooped in through the rafter windows and landed in front of her, knocking aside the margarine and extending a leg with a tightly bound newspaper attached to it. She slid a knut into its leather pouch and set the parcel aside to resume her meal.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Harry responded, equally worried. Ron merely grunted in answer, his mouth preoccupied with chewing his third helping of sausage, when John sprinted behind his bench towards the entrance doors. As he passed, his bag swung from his shoulder and smacked Ron in the back, knocking him forward in a coughing fit while his plate toppled sideways, spilling potatoes across the table.

" _Oi!_ Watch it!" he hacked, wiping pieces of greasy food from his robes. John was already out of view, however, so he turned on them instead. "What was that all about?"

"No clue," Harry mumbled, looking back to where John had been sitting beside the others. Neville slouched with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ crumpled in his tight grip, his face flushing as he read it. "Neville doesn't look too pleased either, whatever it is."

Hermione followed his gaze with squinted eyes before snatching up her own copy and tearing it open. Ron complained, "I told you he was a nutter, didn't I? You heard me say it! And just where are you going?" he barked, for Hermione was hurriedly stuffing the paper into her bag and standing from the bench.

"They knew this would happen…as if anyone would believe they'd actually…I've got to get a letter to her…" she muttered. Before Ron could press her, she ambled down the line of benches and disappeared beyond the doors, leaving Harry and Ron alone at the table.

"Everyone's completely mental," he scoffed, staring after her in bewilderment. Harry was losing his patience and walked over to Neville's place to look over his shoulder at the black and white paper in his hands. On the front page, ten savage people leered up at him, each wearing ragged clothing and shackles as they yelled and gestured from their moving pictures.

"It's her," Neville said in a choked voice, pointing at the most deranged of all the subjects: a cackling, gaunt woman with unruly hair and wild eyes to match. "Bellatrix Lestrange. She's the one…" Harry didn't need any help remembering the addled couple they'd seen at St. Mungo's.

"Neville, I'm sorry but…can I…?" Neville nodded and handed the papers to him without a word, eyes locked on the table below him. Harry flipped open the pages to read over the first couple of articles and several pieces in his mind began sliding into place.

"Let me guess, now you're going to run off too?" Ron derided when Harry approached him at an urgent pace. Harry tossed him the newspaper, nodding to it expectantly.

"I told you last night that Voldemort was really happy," he answered ominously, "and now I think I know why."

* * *

 **MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**  
**MINISTRY FINDS EVIDENCE PLACING DRAGONS**  
 **BEHIND FREEING OF OLD DEATH EATERS**

The headline grabbed his attention like a magnet, and Jake knocked over a stand of toast in his haste to snatch up the paper. Seamus looked alarmed but didn't argue with having his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ ripped away, settling instead for griping quietly to Dean beside him. Jake ignored his accusing stare, focused solely on the page in front of him that was covered in the mugshots of ten particularly filthy and disturbed witches and wizards. The names of the criminals were unfamiliar, but even Jake knew the danger of any wizard branded a 'Death Eater'.

The parts that had his heart racing, however, were the accusations by the Minister of Magic that appeared near the end of the article.

**"We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. There are also undeniable signs and testimonies from multiple eyewitnesses that several creatures resembling dragons were responsible for the majority of the damage to the prison itself. We can only assume that the Dragons of Draco Isle orchestrated this assault, adding to their experience from their attack on the village of Hogsmeade last September while abetting these criminals. We are doing everything we can to track down the culprits, and on no account should these persons, wizard or dragon, be approached."**

His first thought had been the headmaster, and he'd gotten to his feet in a flash, ready to move towards the head table. Yet when he'd laid eyes upon the aging man that was supposedly his lifeline, the same sickening doubt from the night before churned in his stomach. Dumbledore turned away from his conversation with Professor McGonagall and saw him watching, but Jake promptly about-faced and sprinted for the doors, crashing past students as he refused to let himself be pacified by the wizard's piercing blue eyes.

 _This is bad. We thought Chang and the big guy were flying solo, but if they teamed up with Volde-creep...no. There's no way, he_ hates _wizards. He'd never work with them..._

Even in his mind, the words seemed to ring hollow. He rushed up the Grand Staircase aimlessly, pausing at the fourth floor landing to lean against a wall, gasping for breath. _What do I do? Dumble could just be a backstabbing old geezer, even if Stout said..._ He snapped up straight and clapped a hand to his head. _Stout! I have to tell him! If the Dark Dingus really is behind the prison break...aw man...but how am I supposed to get a hold of the guy?_

Restricted to the wizards' near ascetic lifestyle, finding a telephone lying around wasn't all that likely. _C'mon, think Jake. You're in a castle filled with magic, there has to be something here you can use. A forest fairy, a crystal ball,_ something _!_ A shadow flashed across the floor and he looked outside to see a couple of owls streaking past the window. Struck by inspiration, he tore off up the staircase, resuming his frantic climb.

He'd never had to use it before, but Jake had flown past the owlery tower on more than one occasion and found it just as easily on his feet. Pushing open the door, he wrinkled his nose at the tall, stuffy chamber covered in feathers and filth, lined from dusty floor to arching rafters with owls of all shapes and sizes. _It's gonna take forever to talk to him this way, but it's better than nothing._ Jake approached a nearby cluster of owls, deciding on the one with the least hazardous looking talons, and flipped open his bag to dig around for materials. His fingers latched onto a bumpy little object and he retrieved his hand to find it holding the small brown journal Stout had given him. He stared at it for a moment, blinking, and almost forgot what the book even was when Stout's voice surfaced from his memories.

_Whatever's written in one appears in the other..._

A switch flicked in Jake's mind and he had to fight the temptation to slam his head against the wall out of disappointment. _Don't...don't even say anything. This never happened_. The pages inside were all still blank when he cracked it open, looking perfectly new and smelling of fresh paper. _Well at least I didn't miss anything_ , he reasoned, turning back to the first page and readying his quill and ink. A few messy scribbles later and the spotless page bore his usual, almost unintelligible writing.

**_Stout! Read the paper?_ **

He set the feather in his ink well, slouching against the grimy wall and trying to bite back his pessimism. _Watch it not even work, or Stout be busy with the Ministry or some other dragon biz._ A light breeze blew in from the windows, ruffling Jake's hair and bringing with it fresh highland air. The chilling breeze sent shivers across his skin and he couldn't help moving to brace himself on the nearest awning, leaning out and dipping his head into the morning sky. He longed to throw away his pendant and dive out over the grounds below, feeling the wind beneath his wings, the air rushing in his ears.

The bell tower tolled in the distance, signaling the imminent start of classes. Jake grudgingly pulled himself back into the room and turned to his bag and open book. Shuffling over to collect his things, he looked down and noticed his simple, unclean sentence had been joined by another, much more refined, line below it. Jake picked up the journal, smirking at Stout's impeccable handwriting.

 **_So you_ ** **are _alive, good. Yes, it was quite the read, and for once not exaggerated in the slightest._**

His stomach plummeted like an anvil. _So it was them after all. Figures._ He plopped the quill in his ink and returned it to the page, scribbling hurriedly.

**_So what's the plan? What are we gonna do about it?_ **

He watched the page like a red traffic light, anxious for Stout's response and fidgeting with impatience. His own message had finished drying in the paper by the time Stout's precise lettering began appearing further down the page, the ink seeping out of the paper and shaping the slick words.

**_'We' aren't doing anything. I'll handle the dragons, you focus on Potter._ **

Jake cringed. He'd been so caught up in the attack that he'd left Harry completely unattended for nearly an hour now. Self-loathing aside, thinking back to the others also reminded him about their whispered conversation last night and the concerning secrets they had unwittingly divulged under their breath.

**_About that. Harry and his pals were talking last night about Chang's break-in. They said she was going after a 'Department of Mysteries' for some kind of weapon. What's that about?_ **

He received no response for what felt like ages. Jake was on the verge of badgering Stout with another message when fresh letters blossomed on the page.

**_Not sure. It's news to me, but don't concern yourself with it. The last thing you need is to be distracted._ **

Jake tossed his hands up in annoyance and began scratching his response deep into the paper in an agitated flurry.

**_Oh my bad for doing my job! And I am SO not -_ **

Rusty hinges cried out as the heavy tower door swung open. Jake jumped to his feet in surprise, his materials launching from his lap and sliding across the floor. Cursing himself, he bent down to try and salvage his ink well and reached out to scoop up the splayed journal, but stopped halfway as he found a pair of black shoes. Jake lifted his head, following along the covered legs and robed torso until his gaze rested on an inquisitive face framed by curled brown hair.

"John?" Hermione asked in surprise. Jake was frozen again, still kneeling on the hard floor and goggling at her with a sagging jaw. She looked toward the dark ink stains on the floor and commented sympathetically, "Oh, were you sending a letter as well?"

It was like the common room introductions all over again; choked throat, sweaty palms and all. Time was both a blur and motionless all at once, if that were possible. His heart raced with the effort of watching her watching him while his mind ran slower than molasses. Even the voice in his mind stuttered apprehensively. _Snap out of it! Say yes, or no, just say something!_

Still transfixed and stupidly gawking, his right hand raised up and settled on top of his green-tipped hair in a show of his new diminutive sign language. Hermione's face contorted with pangs of pity and indignation, and she made a disgruntled noise before stepping forward and pulling his arm down. "For heaven's sake, don't talk like that!" she scolded him, looking around at the room in embarrassment.

The terse reaction made him straighten up and clamp his mouth shut, trying not to fixate on how warm his arm felt where she'd touched him. His reaction must have appeared offended as she softened and apologized, "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you." Once again he stared blankly, though this time she feigned no patience and her face pinched together in concern. "Are you okay, John?"

He nodded with a strained grin. His instincts begged him to run and he couldn't agree more, snapping back down and scurrying along the floor to retrieve his things. _I can't take it! Go, get out, anywhere's better than here!_ Hermione noticed and bent down to pick up the journal at her feet. A silent yell tried to escaped Jake's charmed throat as she lifted it upwards, moving to read it. He wrenched it out of her loose grip in one quick movement, earning a startled yelp and defensive glare from Hermione. Jake held the book close to his chest, flashing a sheepish smile.

"Honestly," she huffed, striding away towards one of the gaping windows surrounded by resting owls. Jake relaxed and dropped the book back into his bag, still recoiling at the thought of anyone, _especially_ Hermione, managing to read its contents. Renewed ringing echoed from the bell tower outside, bouncing off the walls and warning him that he'd spent far too much time in this chilling room. Needing no further persuasion, he swung up his bag and made it halfway through the entryway before he paused midstep.

"Just sit still for one...little... _second_..." Against his better judgement, Jake looked over his shoulder to see Hermione struggling to tie a folded note to one of the owls' scrawny legs. Her twitchy messenger jostled and hooted, but her fumbling fingers eventually secured the small parcel. Smiling, she cooed, "There, now make sure that gets to her." In an instant, the owl shot out of the window and soared away. Hermione stared after it for a moment before picking up her things to leave, stopping short of her first step when she noticed Jake waiting at the doorway. With truly impressive speed, her pleased expression returned to one of distanced formality.

"What's so funny?" she asked stiffly. Jake realized he had been grinning thoughtlessly and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel the heat flooding his face, but Hermione either failed to notice or didn't care about his discomfort. "Well I'm heading to Charms. You ought to as well if you don't want to be late," she said properly, walking past Jake and descending the stairs beyond the tower door. Whether having Hermione out of sight eased his tensions or his adrenaline rush was simply beginning to wane, Jake's tunneled focus gradually loosened and he felt nauseous from the pool of regret welling in his stomach.

 _That's it? Really? Well, way to go Jake. You actually had the chance to be alone with her after all that trouble, and_ that's _all you got?_ He smacked his forehead repeatedly. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Hales was right, I'm so not on my game._ The day, it seemed, was off to an awful start, and Jake could do little to make it otherwise. At least, that was his resignation as he slouched passed the door and heard Hermione's distant footsteps echoing up the winding tower stairs. A faint urge battled inside of him, fighting to make him sprint down the stairs and try again to connect with the witch. The rest of him, however, kept him stolid and somber, moving slowly as if he were descending towards his demise.

And with each step the pendant seemed to grow heavier, digging into the skin of his neck.

* * *

"Please don't let it be Thestrals...or Fire Crabs...or Unicorns..."

"Give it a rest, Hermione," Harry begged. "Hagrid will be fine, you'll see."

"Fine?" She laughed without humor. "Harry, how many times did we warn him about his lessons, about Umbridge? And did he ever listen to us, even once?"

"He was only trying to do what he thought was right," Harry argued.

"And now he's on _probation_ , Harry," she countered breathlessly. "How much longer before he gets himself sacked, hm?"

"Oh lay off the poor guy, would you?" Ron sighed. "He's got it hard enough as is, he doesn't need you when you're in a mood."

"A _mood_?" she refuted.

"Yes, _a mood_ ," he pressed forward. "All morning you've been riled up! What's got your wand in a knot?"

Hermione scoffed defensively, but didn't respond right away. They had finally made it out to the fields from the castle and began climbing down the green sloping lawn, Hagrid's hut growing larger against the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "I am not 'riled up'," Hermione contested. "I'm only worried about him! Umbridge has been looking for someone to sack, we all know it! It's only a matter of who she chooses first, Hagrid or Professor Trelawney, and Hagrid wasn't exactly putting up much of a fight before break."

"Come on, now, I think it's a bit more than that," Ron sneered. "Ever since you ran out on breakfast you've been all jittery. It's not all that normal, you know."

"Well I'm _terribly_ sorry for getting worked up over ten Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban!" she countered, her voice rising in pitch. "Honestly, I would think you two would be more concerned about this! I mean look at Neville, he..." She quieted as Harry put a hand on her shoulder and nodded behind her. They looked back to see Neville following a ways behind them, his eyes staring at his feat and hidden beneath a curtain of short black bangs. He hadn't said so much as a word all morning, and though they all knew the reason why none of them had worked up the nerve to confront him about it.

Brushing past the discomfort, Hermione continued in a hushed whisper, "Well, he's not the only one that's upset, Susan Bones was even worse in Transfiguration. And John didn't exactly get off to a good start either..."

"John?" Harry asked in surprise. Not counting the previous night, the new boy had maintained his usual silent atmosphere. If anything, the classes so far had positively bored him, and while he'd impressed Professor Flitwick with his silent charmwork, his results had been less than satisfying with Professor McGonagall. He could vanish whatever you liked in the blink of an eye, but anything other than that was pretty well out of the question. Even now he followed alongside Neville, twirling his wand like a baton and frowning at the sky.

"Yes, I ran into him in the Owlery and he was far from charming," Hermione commented.

"It was probably because of the Death Eaters, you saw the way he ran out of the Great Hall," Harry offered.

"Not likely," Ron snickered. "Belongs in St. Mungo's, that one, but you've got a point Hermione."

She whipped her head around and stared at him, utterly perplexed. "I do?"

Ron nodded ahead of them significantly. "You-Know-Who's got everyone jumping, and that goes for the ministry as well."

The other two looked ahead to see Hagrid standing by his hut, twiddling his thumbs and looking around him nervously. Off to his side, Harry unfortunately found the frilly pink cause of his concern. Umbridge sat on a stump nearby, cushioned by a laced little pillow and waiting patiently with her clipboard and oversized quill in hand. The same sour look of disdain from earlier still clung to her face, and she watched their group approach with a shrewd stare. When they had all arranged in a loose circle, their massive instructor shook himself and began the lesson, boldly attempting to avoid Umbridge's critical looks.

"Right, well, good ter see yeh all again," he welcomed them uncertainly, still wringing his hands. "Yer O.W.L.s are right 'round the corner, now, so we're goin ter, uh, talk about some 'o the more common creatures. Now, can anyone tell me what this little bugger is?" When no one responded, he looked to Hermione, no doubt expecting to see her hand raised. Instead, she wore the same searching expression as the rest of the class.

"Er, Professor," Harry said carefully. "There isn't anything here."

"Isn't anything..." the half-giant mumbled, looking around him now. "Blimey, where did I put him...there 'e is!" While whispers spread around their circle, Hagrid wandered just off to the side of his home and lifted up a large cage hidden behind a few crates. Plopping the metal container down on another stump just beside him, he moved aside for the class to see an impish little creature inside. It was shorter than a goblin, and not unlike a gnome, but was covered in coarse hair, had a bulbous nose, and stood on two hooved feet. The students corralled around it, watching curiously as it shied away from their attention and tried to dig through the cage's metal bottom.

"Oh thank goodness," Hermione breathed with relief, raising her hand confidently into the air.

"Hermione?" Hagrid called.

"That's a Porlock," she answered. "They're small creatures that live in fields and are timid around humans."

"Perfect, as usual. Five points fer Gryffindor," Hagrid praised her. "Right, Porlocks...fields and such..." He looked sideways at Umbridge, who was scribbling away on her papers, muttering uncomplimentary words under her breath. Hagrid's hands twirled together ever more anxiously as his train of thought went farther off track. "Who can, er...who can tell me..."

"If I may," Umbridge spoke up, lifting her eyes from her page of notes and fixating on Hagrid. "Could you tell me what is the primary diet of a Porlock?" At that moment, a loud crashing sounded from far off in the depths of the forest, and flocks of birds could be seen fleeing over the tops of trees. More whispers kicked up around their grouping, and Umbridge squinted at the dense woods just as curiously, but Hagrid straightened up, determined to ignore the disturbance.

"Well grubs, o'course," he answered in a fluster. Hermione let out a distressed groan while Umbridge returned her attention to him, smiling sweetly and making no comment.

"He's wrong," Hermione whispered, her hand slowly lifting into the air. "He's getting mixed up with Umbridge watching..."

"Don't say anything!" Harry hissed, yanking her arm down. "If you tell him he'll only get more nervous, and then..."

"Er, yes, what...wait a minute..." Hagrid called out. Harry turned away from Hermione to see Hagrid addressing John, who had his hand raised. "I thought...aren't yeh one o' the third-years?"

Snickering ran through the circle of students. John blushed brilliantly and looked to Neville for assistance. Neville, however, was still standing in his dejected silence, oblivious to his beckoning. John turned to his other side instead and nudged Dean in the shoulder, gesturing to Hagrid.

"...uh, sure," Dean muttered. "Hagrid, this is John. He's new, and he doesn't talk."

Hagrid looked bemused. "A wizard that don't talk? Now who ever heard o' that..." John had his hand back in the air, distracting Hagrid. "Oh, right. What was it, er...John, yeh said?"

The short boy scribbled on a shred of paper and handed it to Dean. "He says that... _Porlocks eat grass, not grubs_ , I think," he clarified.

"Right..." Hagrid choked, blinking. "Right, that's...that's what I meant, grass..." Umbridge's quill scratched and scraped in the tense silence that followed. Searching frantically, Hagrid announced, "Alright all, I...I want yeh to take drawings o' this Porlock and watch him fer the rest of class, got that?" The circle of students encroached closer towards the cage and pulled out materials from their bags to take notes with while Hagrid wandered around, occasionally making remarks about their specimen. Umbridge performed her own service, and Hagrid had managed to answer a few of her questions correctly. His nerve had vanished, however, and the lesson ended with everyone eagerly walking away from the edge of the woods, leaving Hagrid behind with his queer, balled up little Porlock.

Harry tried to wave goodbye as they left, but Umbridge had him engaged in yet another round of interrogation. "C'mon Harry," Ron called to him. "We've got to make it to the greenhouses before Herbology starts."

"Right," he sighed, joining his friends in their climb back up the lawns. Even after following Hermione's advice of having less _exciting_ lessons, Hagrid had still stood little chance against Umbridge's wilting attention, and Harry had to admit that at this rate the matter of Hagrid's sacking was not a question of 'if', but 'when'. As much as it pained Harry to see their friend struggling, any attempt they made to help him would likely only make things worse. The real problem, after all, wasn't Hagrid at all. If only Umbridge weren't breathing down his neck, then maybe...

"Who Hagrid?" Dean's voice carried down from his conversation with John ahead of them. "Oh, he's been teaching Care of Magical Creatures for, what, three years now I think?" John looked disbelieving and scrawled out another small note as they all stopped just outside the greenhouses, waiting for the current class to finish before they entered. When Dean took his finished message, he straightened with understanding and answered, "Oh, right, Professor Grubbly-Plank. She was our substitute near the beginning of the year, but Hagrid came back a couple months in."

John handed him another note. Dean looked uncomfortable as he read the message out loud. " _Are all his lessons that bad?_ Well, not _all_ of them. Usually they're much..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Everyone turned at Harry's outburst as he focused on the short green haired boy with the questioning, innocent look. It did nothing to curb Harry's emboldened rage. "I think Hagrid's a great teacher, so what's your problem with him?"

John made a half-cringing face as if to say _You really think that?_ and tried to write out another hasty message, but Harry didn't wait for it. "I don't care what you've got to say. You don't know Hagrid at all, or Hogwarts. You've haven't been here two days, what do you know about anything?"

"Harry, he just meant..." Dean said carefully.

"If it's so awful here, then feel free to leave. We won't stop you," Harry scorned him. Their gathering was dead silent, John staring at him with wide-eyed shock. Neville finally lifted his head to watch Harry with surprise. He didn't care. What right did this speechless boy, who just showed up on their doorstep thinking he was one of them, have to criticize anything about the school, let alone one of his best friends? Harry took it as support of his right in the matter that neither Ron nor Hermione, who took it upon themselves to dampen his temper, made any attempt at restraining him.

The greenhouse doors cracked open and a stream of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws poured out, smelling strongly of fertilizers. John's stunned expression shifted to one of aggressive defiance and he was the first to throw himself into the humid room once the stream of students had subsided. Harry felt no shame and was, if anything, glad to not have the affronting boy in his sight for the moment. The others filed in after him, Ron and Hermione standing beside him in concern while he tried to rein in his emotions.

"Don't let him get to you, mate," Ron comforted him. "He's just a scrawny little git, that's all."

"He probably didn't even mean to insult Hagrid," Hermione added halfheartedly.

"I think he meant every word of it," Harry dismissed her. They found available seats at the work benches and waited for Professor Sprout, who was meeting with John by the racks of empty pots, to begin class. When John finally did reach his seat, Harry could see him casting sickly glances at the fertilizers spaced throughout the room. Beneath his lingering scowl, he was clearly paling and looking undoubtedly nauseous, steadily shriveling as the class wore on.

All things considered, Harry wouldn't have minded watching the rude little dolt vomit a meal or two.

* * *

_Typical wizards. You lose a tail and wings and all of a sudden they treat you like garbage, the bunch of stuck up, bratty..._

It was just after dinner, and the majority of the Gryffindors had retired to their tower for the evening. It hadn't even hit seven yet, but already papers and books were strewn about the room as everyone drowned themselves in their mounting studies. Jake had his own work scattered about as well, but he couldn't even claim to be making a half sincere attempt at actually completing any of it. Instead, he sat ruminating in his own thoughts, staring at his lap with one hand clenched into a fist beneath his chin and the other toying with the fake Galleon in his pocket.

_Try to stop Harry from being a killing machine? They hate you. Just happen to run into Hermione in the owl tower? They hate you. Ask one stupid little question about the random giant that popped up out of nowhere? They hate you! I just can't win with these jerks!_

As if the circumstances weren't already infuriating enough, he couldn't even manage to stop torturing himself with their memories. Normally a flight around Central Park or some training back at his grandfather's shop would help sift his thoughts, but here he was trapped. He didn't even feel safe trying to meditate without making someone freak out, and his frustration with it all was enough to make him borderline destructive. He drew his hand from his pocket, clenching the small metal object in a vice grip and resisting the temptation of to give in to his temper. When his fury had ebbed, he relaxed his fingers and stared down at the small coin, admiring the dragon emblem embossed on one of the coin's faces. _What I really need is some R &R, to cut loose. Too bad these freaks have never heard of a gym..._

His fingers brushed against the numbers carved along the rim of the coin. The date and time of their next meeting was set for the coming Thursday evening, and Jake still had no clue how he was going to infiltrate it. He'd hoped that he'd somehow get in close with one of the members and they'd in turn invite him, and Neville would have done just that yesterday had Hermione not interfered. Their degree of secrecy was probably for the better, Jake thought, but it certainly didn't make his job any easier. He could just sit it out and hope that Potter managed to keep his head on straight until they came back, but what if someone got hurt? What if Harry got hit by a spell, or fell and injured himself? Would it be enough for their dark wizard to possess him?

It was a chance Jake couldn't take. The problem remained, however, that it would still prove impossible to follow them unless he knew exactly what room to ask for. He pinched his eyes in irritation and chucked the coin down into his bag, exhaustion and defeat gnawing away at him. _I don't know which room they're asking for, but I know where it'll be. I can just try different things and see if I find it by chance?_ It felt like a desperate move on his part, but given the time restraints he wasn't exactly swimming in options. Glancing towards the corner of the Common Room, he found Harry and the others still gathered in their usual group with noses bent low over their papers. Harry sat up to adjust his glasses and caught Jake watching him, returning his stare with a distrusting glare of his own.

 _Yep, that's it. I'm outta here._ Confident that he'd soon be strangling Potter before any dark wizard got the chance, Jake got to his feet with his bag and almost ran for the entrance tunnel, keen on finding some peace and quiet. _Stout can shove it, if Potter wants to whack out and go psycho, let him. The Am-Drag needs some slack._ He brushed past one of the girls in his year in his rush and jumped through the Fat Lady's portrait, making his way towards the supposedly empty hallway.

The wall was flat and even, as unassuming and blank as he'd expected. Jake tossed his bag down and began walking backward and forward along the corridor, diving into his attempts without a moment's thought. _I need the room where the others have their secret meetings...where Harry teaches them about Defense Against the Dark Arts...whatever that room is._ When he looked to the wall hopefully, he was disappointed to find it the same flat stone as before, unaltered and unresponsive.

 _Fine, I guess that would have been too easy. What about this..._ He began his pacing again, trying to imagine the room in his mind. _I need a room to hide magic...where Umbridge can't find it...big enough for a lot of students._ This time, Jake found the surface embedded with an enormous door, and his jaw dropped when he pushed it open to enter the chamber beyond. The room was like a cathedral with high arching ceilings and row upon row of endless items and objects. It was certainly big enough for several students to enter at once, in fact he'd wager all of Gryffindor Tower could fit in the place with room to spare. Something about the cramped walkways and imposing towers of trinkets, however, told Jake he had the wrong room, and he backed out before the ocean of intriguing paraphernalia could drag him in any further.

 _Well that was better, I guess, but I'll be here for days like this._ His attempts at concocting new possibilities were hampered further as he was continually distracted by the nagging itch of the training collar. _I've just about had it with this stupid thing._ His footsteps slapped out into the quiet corridor as he ranted internally _. Forget a classroom, just let me take this necklace off...is a little comfort and some space to practice really so much to ask for?_

Grooves etched themselves into the stone and merged together smoothly until another door appeared that resembled the ones shared by most of the classrooms in the school. Jake flung the door open without hesitation and found the room beyond dimly lit by torchlight with walls lined with bookcases and cushions covering the floor. If anything it resembled more of a laid back library than a training room, or at least any training room Jake had ever used. Some of the texts were flung haphazardly on the floor, and a few cushions sat in unusual places, but otherwise the room looked perfectly normal.

 _No way this would do you any good for casting spells_ , Jake thought, _and there's not much training a dragon can do in here either. Seriously, not even a punching bag?_ A table was set into the far wall, covered in strange mirrors and dusty looking glass fixtures. Vague shapes spun in one of the warped pieces, but Jake had soon lost interest in the room and turned to leave the way he came, scratching at the thread around his throat. He'd made it halfway across the room when a book fell from a shelf at the side of the room. He looked over to see a gap in the shelves that he'd failed to notice before, and nestled in the opening stood a sort of wooden, life sized mannequin.

 _Whoa_ _, hold up. What have we here?_ Jake tugged and tapped the dummy, watching as it bounced and swayed from his prodding. Intrigued, he shoved its chest and smiled as it lazily bounced back up to its resting position. _Aw yeah, now this is what I'm talking about!_ Surprisingly light, the statue dragged easily and Jake had hauled it to the center of the room before tearing off his encumbering robe, vest, and tie. His fingers slid against the rough twine of the collar, and he longed to tear it from his neck, but the thought of Stout's horrified expression, his unbearably clear instructions, held him back.

Had he the use of his voice, he would have roared out in rage. His fists clenched until his nails bit into the skin of his palms, and his temper at last boiled past containment. Jake lashed out and threw a punch at the target's head, his other fist flying out to meet its side and making the feeble body tremble. He hopped to the side before following up with a kick to its chest. The target spun and shook as Jake continued his attacks, each blow filling him with a primal satisfaction as he reveled in his aching muscles and labored breathing. The room was a blur as he lost himself to the movements, and small embers had even begun sparking out where his knuckles impacted the wooden body. At some point, faces had begun to find themselves on the figure's wobbling head, and Jake fought harder with every demon that sprung up before him. Old rivals, infuriating family, and lethal enemies all bowed to his assault, unable to impede his relentless onslaught.

He landed a crippling kick and the mannequin collapsed to the floor, transforming into a curled up, moaning troll. The fur over its chest was matted with blood and it covered its eyes with shaking hands. Jake towered over him, able to do whatever he wanted with a bloodied metal pole gripped tightly in his hand. He lifted it higher for the final blow, grinning sadistically down at the helpless creature pleading for mercy.

_No, no, no, no..._

A door slammed shut. Jake flinched and whirled around, prepared to strike.

* * *

"Harry!" He looked up from his book to see Lavender skipping towards their group from the entrance tunnel, looking absolutely thrilled. "I've got great news!"

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

"Someone's stolen the ball chest from the Quidditch pitch!" she giggled.

"Oh thank God," Ron muttered.

"That's terrible, Lavender," Harry scolded her. "Why would anyone do that?"

"No one knows, but Madam Hooch can't get another set until tomorrow, so the Ravenclaw Team cancelled their practice for tonight," she explained.

"That's brilliant!" Hermione agreed.

Harry looked scandalous. "How can you say that! Imagine if we lost a match because we didn't get as much practice as the other teams! You wouldn't be so happy then would you?"

"You don't understand, Harry," Hermione laughed, pulling out her fake Galleon and wand. "Now that the Ravenclaw team doesn't have practice, it means everyone in the DA's free tonight."

Harry felt a prickle of heat against his leg and retrieved his own token, finding the date on it changed to that very night in just an hour's time. "But...but I haven't got anything prepared! I've no lesson ready, no spells to practice! I...I'll grab my things..." They all packed up and dispersed, rushing to prepare and passing by the other Gryffindor DA members as they checked their coins and hurried to do the same. By the time Harry and Ron scurried down the stairs from their dormitory, Hermione was waiting by the portrait tunnel and tapping her foot impatiently.

She checked her watch as they approached. "Let's go you two, we've got to set up before the others get there!"

"Because we had so much time to plan this all out," Ron countered sarcastically. Hermione slapped his arm as they sidled past the Fat Lady's portrait.

They arrived outside the Room of Requirement gasping and promptly began pacing in a small line, walking back and forth along the hall with their meeting room at the forefront of their minds until the familiar door materialized along the length of the stone wall. Harry walked forward, yearning to lead the first session of the term, but stopped with his hand frozen on the door handle.

"Let's go, Harry, what're you..." Harry held up a hand to silence Ron and planted his ear against the door. Hermione and Ron each gave him confused looks before following suit, their eyes widening as they noticed what had distracted Harry.

"You hear it too?" he asked the pair of them. They both nodded. Some kind of rhythmic pounding, muffled and sharp, was coming from inside the room, a sound that Harry could not place. He leaned back from the door and, nodding to his friends, gently cracked it open enough for them to slide in quietly one at a time. The cushions in the center of the room had been pushed back and in their place stood a fake wooden person with padded body parts.

It was actually hard for Harry to see it, however, as it was being brutally attacked by none other than John, who moved around it in a flurry of savage blows. The dummy was surviving quite the beating, but John's pace was also steadily increasing. He moved quicker, his strikes were louder, and Harry could swear there were even flickers of flames appearing somehow wherever the crazed boy landed a jab. While they stood mesmerized, John aimed an upwards kick at the objects head that lifted it completely off of the ground and sent it sprawling on the floor. He stood over it, breathing heavily and staring down at the mutilated target.

The door to the room slammed shut behind them without warning. All of them jumped and watched John warily as he swiveled around to eye them with the look of a rabid animal. Harry had actually begun to reach for his wand when John looked down at his plaything, then back up at them, and down once again. None of them said a word as he brushed himself off, smoothing out his crumpled shirt and combing his fingers through his hair in a hurry. Satisfied, he stood up straight and smiled as harmlessly as possible, waving a hand in what Harry could only guess was an attempt at being friendly and calming. The atmosphere in the room was anything but.

"He's a lunatic," Ron whimpered.


	24. Silver Tongues and Golden Silence

It was funny to think that only seconds ago Jake had been exhilarated, euphoric even, when now his legs felt weak and his blood ran cold as ice. He'd been so engrossed in his routine, captured by the demons that had taunted him without end, that he'd failed to notice that he'd attracted an audience. The slamming of the room's door had broken the trance, but not before he'd made quite the display out of assaulting the sad little wooden dummy and beaten it far beyond the point of casual training. As he stood there trying to calm his panting, part of him prayed that he hadn't been too careless, but judging from the borderline terrified expressions on the faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, it was safe to assume that he'd gone a bit too far.

Jake was speechless, and it wasn't from the medallion resting over his chest. _This is so not my day..._

At the very least, the three of them looked even less prepared to engage in conversation, allotting Jake a brief moment to panic. _This is bad, this is_ so _bad_ _. How much did they see? If I'd actually taken the necklace off..._ Jake clutched at his dry throat, the pendant weighing heavier than ever on his neck. _Better not tell Stout or he'll never let me live it_ _down_. His mind raced to find some explanation, darting from the mannequin at his feet to the still gawking wizards. _Alright, chill! Just chill. For all they know I'm still a 'wizard', just kicking back with some exercise. What's so weird about that? Play it cool and this'll all blow over...right._

He ran one of his hands over his loose shirt, smoothing out the fresh wrinkles, and teased his hair with the other. _The Am-Drag's got this. You can deal with mom after coming home late on a school night, you can deal with this. No sweat._ Taking a calming breath and bringing is arm up in a stiff wave, Jake flashed his most harmless, welcoming smile at the trio as if greeting old friends on a pleasant, _average_ , winter evening.

"He's a lunatic," Ron whimpered.

Jake's hand halted mid-wave, his lips pulling down into a scowl. He was fairly certain he'd heard every variant of 'crazy-person' in the past twenty-four hours, and it was starting to get on his nerves. _Oh sure, and let's all just forget that Potter was the one twitching on the ground and scream-laughing, because that's totally_ _normal_.

"Ron," Hermione hissed at him sideways. She looked more concerned than anything, though politeness was the farthest thing from Harry's mind as he stood glaring at the green-haired boy with the same distaste from earlier. Jake returned the gesture, oddly preferring it to the ginger's persisting grimace. Hermione, meanwhile, looked between the three of them impatiently and caved before long, striding into the pillow ridden room.

"Wait, Hermione!" Ron squealed from the doorway. A quick glance over her shoulder was enough to quiet him and she pressed forward to stand in front of Jake. Having her so near was enough for Jake to pull his stare away from Harry, focusing instead on the distressed girl before him. Heat rushed to his face under her attention, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously.

"What are you doing here, John?" she half-whispered. Jake jabbed a thumb behind him and looked back to where the dummy was, forgetting it had collapsed to the ground. Flustered, he bent down to lift it back up, balancing it on its wobbling stand and patting it in support with an innocent grin. Small tufts of ash puffed out from where he slapped the wooden man, and he winced at the soot covering his hand. The dummy was pocked here and there with matching little scorch marks. _Aw_ _man, I really did take it too far..._

"But how? How did you find this place?" Hermione pried in a shrewd voice.

 _I_ _could ask you the same thing_ , Jake seethed, _the stupid coin said you weren't doing your thing for two more days!_ He could hardly explain that to Hermione, however, and instead shrugged, feigning a lack of understanding. Her eyes narrowed further, unsatisfied. Jake could feel her suspicions brewing and decided to take action before her thoughts could reach a dangerous conclusion. He stepped beside the mannequin and pointed between it and Hermione, miming a punch at its flat chest when she failed to comprehend his meaning.

"Oh! No, no," Her eyes flew open and she shook her head, "I don't do - well, _can't_ do - whatever...that is," she refused. Ron began to walk towards them with Harry following just behind him, both of their expressions failing to have softened in the slightest.

"Hey, don't go changing the subject," Ron ordered him, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction. Jake was surprised he'd even managed to follow their hushed discussion. "Who told you about the Room of Requirement? C'mon, then, spit it out! Was it Neville? Lavender?" Backing away a couple steps, Jake held up his hands in defense and looked around the room. He found where he'd left his bag and clothes, abandoned next to the table of strange mirrors and spyglasses, and stepped around Ron to reach his belongings, withdrawing his writing materials. Diversions had failed to distract them, so now it was time for round two: complete, irresponsible denial. Ron groaned with impatience as Jake scribbled out a note and handed it to him. His eyes squinted together as he read aloud, " _What's the Room of_ _Requirement_?" He chuffed, _"_ Oh, so you don't even know what it's called, do you? Likely story..."

" _Ron!_ " Hermione reprimanded him again, the scolding not dissuading Harry's own indignation.

"You just happened to walk in, then? On accident?" he derided. Jake's fervent nodding didn't convince him.

"Come on, you don't actually believe him?" Ron sneered.

Hermione faced the two of them and ducked her head low, her back facing Jake. "If someone did tell him, we'll find out who's responsible, trust me," she whispered to the pair of them. She jerked back upright and turned around when Jake tapped her on the shoulder, handing her another messy note for her to read. " _Hiding something?_ " she mumbled, her cheeks flushing in response. Jake put his all into stifling his triumphant grin.

"No," Harry answered, his voice firm, "we're not _hiding_ anything, it's just..."

"Hey, who let the new kind in the D.A.?" Fred and George waltzed in happily, the twins both watching their argument with obvious curiosity. One of them turned to the other and continued, "They'll take anyone these days. Honestly, you'd think an illegal defense organization would be more selective."

Ron found renewed exasperation. "Well that's just perfect, why don't you go running down the halls shouting it while you're at it!"

They shared a skeptical look with each other. "Wait, you mean to tell us he doesn't even know about the D.A. yet?" Fred mocked.

"What git showed him here, then?" George inquired.

"No one brought him anywhere! He only...never mind," Harry groaned. More chattering students had entered the room and he turned back to Jake, his cheerless face set like stone. "You have to leave John."

 _You're really starting to push it, four-eyes_ , Jake scowled. He tapped a finger to his chest, pointed at the floor, and clapped his hands together in an act of shameless begging. _I did NOT manage to find this place just to have you throw me out, cut me some slack!_ Harry glanced back at the arriving students, not so much 'swayed' as 'embarrassed' and his posture no less unyielding.

Jake had to stop himself from ripping out his hair. _I can't believe you're going to make me do this._ He didn't like it, but if Jake wanted a place in their group he'd have to resort to drastic measures. Welling up whatever dregs of sympathy he could, he scribbled down another message and shoved it into Harry's hands, staring at his shoes with self-loathing.

It only took Harry seconds to skim across the words, his brows furrowing together. "Well you should be! You had no right!" Harry scorned him.

"What'd he say?" Ron asked, preemptively offended.

"He said he's sorry for 'dissing' Hagrid," Harry relayed, handing the note to Hermione as she beckoned for it.

Ron stood a bit straighter. "Well Harry's right! You had no right doing...what was it you said he did again?"

"It means 'insulting someone', I remember hearing Jake use it before," Hermione explained, her face screwed up in thought as she looked back at the wide-eyed mute before her. "Where did you say you were from again?"

If Stout were here, he probably would have smacked him. As it stood, Jake had to appreciate his own profound, tactless stupidity on his behalf. He was thankfully saved from concocting some poorly thought out explanation by Dean, who approached their group from the now sizable mass of waiting students. "Everyone's here Harry," he cheered, doing a double take at seeing his newest roommate. "John? So Harry let you in, yeh?"

Before Ron could dispute the point, Hermione sighed, "We ought to let him stay, Harry, he won't be that much trouble. Besides, he already knows."

Jake could have kissed her on the spot. Betrayal poured off of Ron in waves, but Harry seemed resigned to both her reasoning and his own impatience. "Fine, you can stay John," he consented, lifting his glasses up to rub his eyes. "Just don't be...weird or anything, and we don't do _that_ here," he added, gesticulating over to the still tilting mannequin they'd found him with. Jake nodded emphatically and pumped a fist in victory when the others turned away. Ron still seemed supremely annoyed, but they all moved to join the other students and waited for everyone to calm down at Harry's calling. As the room grew silent, Jake looked to his side at Hermione, his palms sweating when he found her still watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Welcome back from break, everyone," Harry greeted them. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, we didn't think there would be time for a meeting tonight...sorry Cho," he apologized. Jake followed his eyes to the same black haired girl he'd seen the day before in the hall, and though Harry seemed uncomfortable she simply shrugged and smiled back. Harry returned it with his own, one that was a little too broad for simple friendship, Jake noted. "Anyway, I didn't have anything planned this early, so I was thinking we'd...er, yes Smith?"

"Who's he?" Jake turned to the source of the petulant voice and found a tall, scrawny blonde haired boy squinting at him. The other students all followed suit and soon enough Jake had a sea of questioning eyes trained on him.

"Right," Harry muttered. "For those of you who don't know, this is John. He's a new fifth-year, and he'll be joining us for..."

"But I thought you said we weren't allowed to tell anyone about the D.A.?" Harry's lips pursed together but he made no comment as the other boy 'Smith' fidgeted in the uncomfortable silence. "Well, don't we get a say in who gets in?" Normally Jake was a fairly sociable person, but something was supremely irritating about the arrogant tone of this Hufflepuff's questions, as if he were an argumentative child threatening to tattle to their teacher. That is, if the teacher weren't the person he was arguing with in the first place.

"Splendid idea, we should all get a say in who stays," Fred agreed. Smith's smug grin slipped away as he continued, "I vote we kick out Zacharias."

"Seconded," George added.

Smith blushed radiantly and scowled at the Weasley twins. "What if he runs off and rats to Umbridge? It'll be all our necks on the line, we could be expelled!"

"Doesn't sound so bad, if it means we don't have to listen you," George considered.

"That's enough. Here, if it'll make you feel better," Hermione sighed, walking over to a standing mirror and pulling off a paper stuck to its surface. She pulled out a quill on her way back and handed both to Jake, who saw a list of signatures written below a bold header reading _Dumbledore's Army_. His eyes grew wide as saucer plates at the moniker while Hermione continued, "If you want to join the D.A., you have to sign our ledger. It's our way of promising not to tell anyone else about it, including students and professors."

Once again, his unconvinced spectators were all watching him expectantly. If there was one thing Jake distrusted in the magical world, it was paperwork, especially when signatures were involved. Unfortunately, he could see no loopholes to pursue, no way of avoiding Hermione's demand. Reluctantly, he nodded and plucked the feather from her grip. He scribbled his fake name over the paper, cringing as he ended the last letter with a flourish.

Hermione took back the form and examined his signature with a pleased grin. "There, I think that should be enough for us to trust him. Any objections?" she announced, observing Zacharias Smith with obstinate patience. He scrunched his face and yielded with a slouch.

"Right, as I was saying," Harry continued gratefully, "I didn't have any new lessons prepared for tonight, so I thought we'd start the term off by reviewing with some dueling." The few groans that had sounded when he'd said 'reviewing' were swallowed by the tide of excited murmuring that followed. Though he knew he shouldn't have been, Jake was thrilled by the prospect. Dragon sparring was his favorite past time, and this was probably as close as he was likely to get to it in this stuffy castle. "Since most of us have never dueled before, we'll start with a demonstration before pairing up. Any volunteers?"

The ensemble of whispers vanished. Jake looked at the crowd behind him, all of the students now looking away in any direction other than towards their impromptu professor. Harry was twisting his wand in his hands, trying to even make eye contact with his class and failing miserably. When his expression began to grow desperate, Jake relented and lifted his hand high, exasperated that no one else was even remotely interested in participating. The exasperation turned into downright annoyance when Harry adopted their same look of reluctance when he noticed his offer.

"Er, thanks John, but I don't know if that's a good idea," he admitted. "I don't know how far on you are with defensive spells, and..." Jake waved off his objections and walked forward to stand beside him, his arms crossed with determination. Harry groaned but didn't press the matter and instead turned back to the remaining students. "Alright, so one more. Don't all jump up at once." The room remained dead silent, though Jake could tell Harry was nearing the end of his patience. He stopped toying with his wand and stood up straighter, looking straight into the crowd of black-clad teenagers. "Fine then. Smith, come up here." The Hufflepuff's head drooped down low, and Harry persisted, "You were eager to get started five minutes ago, so let's go. We haven't got all night."

Fred and George snickered quietly as the blonde squeezed his way toward Harry's other side, grumbling to himself. Harry ignored the sound and began lecturing. "Let's get started. The point of dueling is to disarm or incapacitate your opponent, but we'll stick to disarming." Jake's shoulders dropped a little. _You mean I don't get to kick this dweeb's butt? Man, you take the fun out of everything_. Harry moved them to face each other from opposite ends of the room, the other students spread out along the length of their alley to watch with bubbling enthusiasm.

"After you bow to each other, you can start casting. Whoever disarms the other first wins, clear?" Jake nodded to Harry before providing Smith with an embellished bow. Smith tipped forward in a stiff motion and lifted his wand just as awkwardly, his fingers fumbling with it in his grip. Jake had his own aimed squarely at Smith's chest, his free hand tucked out of sight in his pants pocket. The excited gossiping from the sidelines had died away and left only tension in its place as Jake grinned at Smith's apprehensive stance. Beads of sweat were popping up on Smith's forehead when he at last opened his mouth and drew back his arm.

" _Expelli-_ "

His wand flew from his fingers and clattered to the floor between them. Jake had jabbed his own wand forward and flicked two of his concealed fingers before Smith had made a sound, smirking at the results of his manipulation. Smith gaped at his hand before looking around at their humming spectators, his cheeks blushing once again. "But how did...you didn't even say anything!"

"Excellent! That was great, John, well done," Harry said in baffled praise, picking up Smith's wand and tossing it back to him. Several other students agreed with soft approvals while Jake rubbed the back of his neck, twirling his wand around his fingers. "Alright, does anyone have any questions?" Harry asked aloud. "No? Then pair up with someone and line up along the room."

The members sprang into action and found partners, Neville cautiously taking Smith's place as the Hufflepuff shuffled away looking cheated. Harry walked along the rows, not dueling himself but preferring to observe and instruct, giving advice for the less coordinated. Each duel only lasted minutes, and afterwards one half of the room would slide down to their next opponent in a chain of never ending contests. Not a soul in the room was gloomy or displeased as the battles continued, each of them reveling in their victories and laughing at their faults.

For no one was this more true than Jake. After their demonstration, he'd become something of a test for the others as they bowed to him and tried their hardest to disarm the new kid on the block. Jake took up every challenge and met them eagerly, though he'd honestly anticipated far more skilled competition considering how long they'd had the group around. The majority of his opponents could get their spells off, sure, but they were clumsy, poorly aimed, and overall underwhelming. Neville had somehow managed to disarm himself, however that was possible. Ron looked like he were contemplating a few lethal maneuvers when they bowed to each other, an intense expression that promptly disappeared when Jake's magic pulled down his trousers to the amusement of the duelists nearby. The girl Harry constantly goggled at made clever use of some levitation charms to actually get the better of him (one of the few that did), and the Gryffindor Quidditch captain that Dominic had tormented ages ago landed some kind of jinx that knocked Jake's legs out from under him, though he'd managed to land in an impressive handstand and respond in kind.

It felt like they'd only just started when Harry announced that their next duel would be their last. The room echoed with collective groans of disappointment as Jake leaned forward to bow for his final opponent, his chest clenching as he lifted his head to see the lucky individual. Even had he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from beaming like an idiot.

"Ready, John?" Hermione smiled.

 _Anytime, anywhere baby._ Jake raised his wand arm and slipped his other out to beckon her forward. Wavering at the taught, she paused just long enough to smirk back at him.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Jake stepped sideways and watched the bullet of red light shoot past him, miming a yawn with his wand hand. Hermione narrowed her eyes and whipped her arm around again, yelling, " _Stupefy_ _!_ " The spell flew over Jake's head as he ducked, energy from it bleeding downward and making his hair stand on end. He looked to Hermione in surprise and watched as she gave her own sarcastic curtsy. Grinning sadistically, he jumped back up and flung out his wand, flicking his fingers and intent on removing her weapon. Hermione, however, slashed her own wand out, shouting, " _Protego!_ " Jake's manipulation collided with her shield like a concussive wave, deflecting to the sides and away from her harmlessly. _You got some sick moves, girl, I'll give you that_ , Jake chortled.

He sent more manipulations her way, but each was repelled by her shields. It was then his turn to dance away from her own attacks, which proved a simple task until he lost his footing on a nearby cushion and nearly did the splits in the process. Before he could right his stance, Hermione took aim and yelled, " _Impedimentia!_ " A ball of soft white light shot out from her wand and struck Jake squarely in the chest, flinging him backward onto a mound of cushions piled against the wall of bookcases. His head was swimming and he felt dazed as he untangled himself from the heap of pillows, vaguely aware that someone was calling out to him.

"John! Hang on, I'm coming!" Hermione was jogging toward him, bending down to pick something off of the floor on her way to stand over him. _Damn, that must be my wand_ , Jake groaned. S _he actually got me. Heh, I must be losing my touch_. She bent down, examining him with deep concern. "I'm so sorry, John, I didn't think it would be that strong! That was so careless...oh, please tell me you're alright!"

Alright? Forget alright, he was fantastic! Jake couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so empowered, so full of energy and strength, as though a he'd dropped massive weights and could run a marathon. He extended a hand out to Hermione and she helped to lift him out of his fluffed landing pad, still fretting over him as he stretched his arms and rubbed a tender spot on the back of his head. _Must've hit my head harder than I thought_ , he reasoned.

"You're sure you're alright?" Hermione persisted. "I can show you to the Hospital Wing if anything's broken, or..."

"Calm down, Hermione, I'm good," Jake laughed, nudging her in the shoulder, "I'm not gonna lie, that was pretty sick. Wanna go best two out of three?" If anything, his assurances had made her more uncertain as she continued to search him for something, almost astonished. "You sure _you're_ okay?" Jake asked jokingly, unnerved by her expression. He reached out to take his wand back from her open hand and found his training collar, cord snapped and silver medallion dangling, resting next to it in her palm. His hand flew back to his throat, groping for the necklace he knew he wouldn't find, and he felt his stomach plummeting as Hermione continued to gape at him.

"You can talk?"

* * *

"Like this Harry?"

"Yes, that's perfect Luna, just like that," he encouraged her. She'd been losing many of her duels and realized that her spells continually went askew, going either left, right, or above her opponent, basically any direction but the one she'd intended. Harry had recommended making a small change to her grip and watched with satisfaction as her next jelly-legs curse had Michael Corner sprawled on the floor, his legs kicking every which way.

There was an audible _bang_ , followed by the sound of books hitting the ground. Facing the other half of the room, Harry saw John collapsed on a few cushions against the bookshelves with his head lolled forward and texts falling from the shelves around him. Hermione was already rushing toward him, and by the time Harry arrived they were standing perfectly silent, gawking at one another.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked. John flinched and hurriedly snatched something out of Hermione's hand, unfolding a thin string and tying it behind his neck. He stuffed the necklace and joined ornament under his shirt and, seeing Harry still waiting for a response, shook his head at Hermione imploringly.

"Yes...everything's fine," she answered in a low voice. She tore her gaze away from John to address Harry. "It was my fault. I got carried away with our duel, but we're both alright."

Something still felt off, but a quick glance at his watch told Harry that they were running their meeting dangerously long. "Alright everyone, that's good for tonight!" he announced. "Thanks again for coming, but it's getting late and we all ought to be heading back to our houses before Filch starts stalking about." There was a short round of applause as the students began collecting their things and heading towards the doors. John himself was first among them as he almost sprinted to the entrance, his bag and extra clothes swinging from his shoulder as he brushed past praises and farewells from other members and slipped into the corridor.

"I guess I was wrong. He did pretty well, don't you think?" Harry asked.

"I still think he's off his trolley, if that's what you're asking," Ron huffed as they piled up the pillows and arranged the bookcases.

"You're just upset because he beat you in a duel," Hermione laughed, levitating John's mannequin to a corner of the room and running her fingers along the black flecks that spilled off of it as it hit the floor. "It doesn't make any sense, though," she muttered.

Harry stood at the entrance, holding the door open for them to leave the empty room. When Hermione failed to finish her thought, he shared a look with Ron and asked, "What doesn't make sense, again?"

Her eyes were on the floor while she chewed her lip. "Any of it," she whispered, walking out into the corridor.

"Thanks so much for clearing that up," Ron rolled his eyes, continuing in a mumble, "Going after a man's trousers, I ask you." They let the door slam shut behind them, its frame melding back into flat, gray stone.

Yes, Harry was certain something must have transpired to make Hermione so flustered, yet in the coming days she avoided any of his attempts at bringing it up in conversation and John seemed just as distanced. His reclusive behavior was all the more strange considering his consistently encouraging performances at the D.A. meetings and the positive responses from the members that followed. It was easy to forget, however, that the handicap that made John's casting so impressive probably made being outgoing just as difficult.

Then there were his other problems, chief among them being Occlumency. Whenever Hermione or Snape badgered him about it, he'd lie through his teeth and say he'd been practicing closing his mind every night, which couldn't be farther from the truth and it was beginning to show. Every lesson with Snape only ended in an even worse headache than the previous one and he still had yet to produce so much as a smidge of resistance against the mental intrusions. Mixed in with their increasingly monstrous piles of homework, planning D.A. meetings, and having no Quidditch to relax with, Harry was coming to understand just why everyone dreaded their fifth year at Hogwarts.

Weeks passed in a blink, and Harry was shocked to find January had faded into February, bringing with it biting storms that turned the fields into leagues of splattering mud. Rain pelted the windows day in and day out, and it was no different this Saturday morning. Harry sat in the Great Hall, staring unseeing at the Ravenclaw table as another nagging problem tossed and turned in his mind.

"I take that as a no, then?" A hand waved right in front of him, making him flinch out of his stupor.

"Sorry, what?" Harry dozed, blinking out the daydreams from his eyes. Hermione shook her head at him in disappointment and slid over to sit between him and the table of blue and black clad students.

"I was asking if you had any plans today?" she pried. He fixed her with a blank stare. "With Cho?" she dragged. "For Valentine's Day?"

"Oh...no, not really," he muttered. "We haven't really done anything since...well...last term, you know." The back of his neck was burning at the confession. He'd tried to approach Cho about her activities, even with the Hogsmeade trip still cancelled, but every time he'd spoken with her he just felt so disjointed, as though she weren't interested. Maybe the Death Eaters had put her off, he proposed, she certainly wouldn't have been the only one. Or perhaps he was inventing excuses for his own lack of interest. That didn't feel right either, though, considering the squirming jig his stomach did whenever she talked with him.

"That's perfect," Hermione blurted, reaffirming at Harry's glare, "Not you and Cho, I mean. Listen, I need you both to meet me in the fields by the greenhouses at noon today, it's essential that you be there."

"Today? But Hermione, that's only half an hour away and it's pouring out there!" Harry disparaged.

"Isn't it always these days?" she countered. "It won't take long, I promise."

"Count me out," Ron groaned. "I'm off to the pitch after this, Johnson's got the team practicing all day. Not that it'll make any difference, we must be the worst Quidditch team in a century."

"Fine," Hermione dismissed him. His slouch deepened, as though disappointed she hadn't fought his rejection. "But Harry you've got to be there, it's taken me a month to arrange this and we won't get another chance." He opened his mouth to protest again, but she cut him off, "Promise me you'll come? Please?"

His eyes drifted wearily back to the deluge outside. He sighed, "Fine, I'll be there." She nodded and stood from her place, hurrying out of the hall with Ron soon following her out, whimpering all the while. Harry waited as long as possible at his place before conceding to his fate and dragging himself out into the downpour. As he passed through the doors to the fields and felt the first wave of drops smack onto his hood, he heard his name being called and turned around to see Fred and George catching up to him with a terrified looking John caught between them.

"Harry! Heading out to watch the Gryffindor practice as well?" George greeted him.

"So are we," Fred pressed on before Harry could correct them. "We figured we'd show John here the revolutionary skills of the finest lineup Hogwarts has seen in decades." They fell into step as they all trudged through the mud and down the hill, both the circular pitch and rows of greenhouses just visible through the foggy atmosphere. The twins continued to babble in mock conversation as they walked, John of course only squirming fruitlessly and peering at Harry in unabashed pleading as they dragged him down the hill. When the path diverged between their two destinations, Harry bid his farewells, gave John an apologetic shrug, and rushed toward the glass enclosures, spotting Hermione ducked below an awning with Luna Lovegood standing beside her in a ludicrously fluffed, multicolored coat.

"This better be worth it, Hermione!" he yelled, joining them below the shade with his arms hugging his chilled torso.

"Hello, Harry. Lovely day, isn't it?" Luna welcomed him, pulling a hand free of her scaly muffler to wave at him.

Harry nodded back. "What's going on, why's Luna here too?"

"I'll tell you in just a moment," Hermione comforted him, unfolding one of her own arms to point farther across the hill where the Whomping Willow shivered in the rain. "We're taking the hidden passage to the Shrieking Shack, come on!" She ran out into the rain with Luna and Harry chasing after her, avoiding the splashes of mud from her steps. As they neared, Harry could see the massive tree twitching nervously and lifting its gigantic branches in warning. Hermione pointed her wand at the tree and shouted, " _Immobulus!_ " The tree stopped mid-swing with every twig and strand frozen in the air, its appendages sticking straight out and hanging perfectly still.

"Now's our chance," she urged them, though Harry needed no prodding. They ducked into the hole below its trunk and ambled down to the tunnel below, Luna looking around curiously as they went. Hermione led them through the narrow, dank passage and up the staircase at the far end, bringing them up into the creaking old house that resided on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

Streams of leaking rain water dripped from every possible crack, the smell of mold and rotted wood filled the air, and several of the support beams had more gouges and cracks than Harry was comfortable with. "This place isn't very nice," Luna commented idly, lighting the tip of her wand and illuminating the area around them.

"Hermione, what are we doing here?" Harry complained, stepping around a puddle. Clacking footsteps echoed from down a hallway and Harry quickly drew his wand in anticipation, his breath fogging into the air. "Who's there?"

A tall figure with half-done blonde curls, a ruddy raincoat, and winged glasses with holes where gems used to sit strutted into the blue light of Luna's wand. She carried a crocodile bag over her shoulder and daintily flaunted her chipped nails. "Now that does sting. Our triwizard champion doesn't even remember me." She flicked a wayward hair from her face. "And here I thought I'd left an impression."

The past year had not been kind to Rita Skeeter. "You've got to be joking," Harry groaned.

"If only," Rita sneered, leaning against the peeling wallpaper behind her. "So how've you been, Harry dear? Any new romances brewing in the air now that there's no life-endangering competition to satisfy your pathological desire for attention?"

Harry rounded on Hermione. "Explanation. Now."

"Gladly." She walked forward to stand in the middle of their group with crossed arms, her chin held high. "The _Prophet's_ article on the Azkaban breakout last month was full of holes and misinformation, leaving a lot of people questioning the intent of the story and the Ministry itself. For once, people aren't sure that you've completely lost your marbles. If there's ever a time for us to convince everyone that Voldemort's back - oh get a hold of yourself, you're a _journalist_ \- and that you and Dumbledore have been telling the truth, it's now." The corner of her lips perked up devilishly. "It also happens that Rita here," she flicked a hand behind her to the snarling woman, "owes me a favor."

"Is that what they call 'blackmail' these days?" she snapped.

"And Luna's father is the editor of another newspaper, the _Quibbler_." Rita guffawed loudly, but a quick glare from Hermione returned her to seething quietly. "All it'll take is one interview and a _factual_ article, and we'll set half of England straight in no time."

"I've tried telling Little Miss Perfect here that it won't work, but she refuses to listen to me," Rita scowled.

"Father can make any story work," Luna piped in, waving her muffler high, "especially when it comes to important cases like this. I'm sure he'll be thrilled!"

"Think about it Harry," Hermione said excitedly. "We can finally save Cedric's memory, reveal the Death Eaters we know about, and clear the Dragons of Draco Isle from the attacks! All you have to do is tell Rita about what happened in the cemetery." Harry's hands balled into fists, his jaw clenched tightly.

"And what about my end, hm? Surely you can imagine the usual fee for someone of my _skill_ ," Rita trilled.

" _You_ ," Hermione simmered, "get to write the story of the year, _as Harry describes it I might add,_ and remain free of Azkaban. Of course, if you don't feel we're being amenable, I can always send a letter off to the Improper Use of Magic Office about a certain unregistered Animagus. Just _imagine_ the kind of coverage you could get from inside a cell for a few years..."

"Watch yourself, _curls_ ," Rita hissed, her hands shaking with rage. " _Working for free_ , the nerve of it...and for that _rag_ of a journal! The very thought..." Her burning eyes drifted back to Harry, and they could all see the temptation warring with her pride, smoothing her features and easing her talon-like grip. "Mmm, but stories like these are few and far between, it's true," she smiled, one of her long fingers tracing the brim of her bag.

Hermione turned back to Harry, her brows furrowed. "Well, Harry? Can you do it?" All three of them were watching him intently, but he'd already made up his mind. He owed it to too many people, too many families. To not to say anything would be unthinkable.

"Alright," he said solemnly. "I'll do it."

" _Wonderful_." Rita conjured a chair and plopped into it, pulling out her quill and notepad in one smooth motion. "Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

 _Wow...these guys are awful_.

Whatever irritation Jake had harbored after being abducted from the Great Hall by the Weasley twins was replaced by dumbfounded confusion. Stuck to the wet bleachers with his hair matted to his forehead, he sat between Fred and George watching the players above them attempting to practice in the sopping weather. Even from Jake's limited experience, he could tell from Ron's missed catches and the blindly swinging Beaters that things were going just South of terrible.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Fred wondered.

"A wonder to behold," George added. Jake nodded numbly, still wide-eyed as one of the players hung upside down from his broom, kicking wildly at the air in his attempts to swing back up. "You see John, unless the Hufflepuff dormitories erupt in Fiendfyre..."

"...or their whole team falls off their brooms with laughter..."

"...we haven't got a _chance_ of winning our next match," George admitted. "Our beaters are hopeless, and Ron's just making a fool of himself." Jake almost disputed the point in Ron's defense until the Keeper tried smacking away a shot from one of the Chasers with his broom and instead bounced it straight through his hoop. Jake cringed and covered his eyes, the twins moaning in unison.

"Our point exactly," Fred lamented. "You see, Georgie and I used to be on the team and it means a lot to us..."

"...and we couldn't help but notice at the D.A. meetings that you're pretty nimble on your feet. So tell us, how good are you at flying?"

 _How good am I at flying?_ Jake sneered, giving the twins a superior look. _I was good enough to show all y'all up a few months ago, how's that for flying?_ They both grinned broadly and clapped him on the back, and it was only then that their intended meaning dawned on Jake. He jumped to his feet, waving his hands defensively in front of him and shaking his head. _Oh no, no way I'm playing Quidditch the wizard way. As if I need the whole school watching me at once, I'm already in deep enough as it is!_

"Come on, John, we need you! Even if you can only stay on a bloody broom for five minutes, we'll still be better off than with this lot!" George begged him. Jake slouched and turned away, making his way toward the stairs to find the exit portal.

"At least think about it!" Fred called after him. Jake pushed his way through the pitch tarps and left the stadium behind him, beginning the long, wet climb back to the castle. The hardest part was that Jake would have loved playing Quidditch, assuming he could even use a broom, but he couldn't trust himself not to slip up somehow. He'd already exposed his 'speech impediment' for the lie it was in front of Hermione, a mistake that had haunted him for weeks. Now that he was a part of meetings and becoming more familiar with the school, most of the other students were even friendly towards him, a fact he would have relished were the circumstances different. For now, however, one more accident was all it would take to seal his fate. He was constantly on edge, reminding himself why he was here. He was behind enemy lines; he couldn't afford comfort or complacency.

 _Why, though? Why can't they know?_ The question was a poisonous one, filling Jake's every waking thought. All of the other dragons refused to divulge the truth of their dual-natured lives, and when it came to certain wizards like Voldemort, he could understand that. But Dumbledore knew and the world hadn't suddenly come crashing down around them! _So some of them can be trusted and some can't, but how do you tell which is which?_

Jake had made it to the entrance hall of the castle and was turning toward the Great Staircase, flipping his fake Galleon in the air as he went. _That's just it, you can't know 100% that they won't say anything...but isn't that the point of trusting people? Putting faith in them?_ Jake rubbed his eyes, a headache steadily brewing in his skull. _I can't risk telling anyone, but I could be here for months! At this rate I'll need a straight jacket before Potter does..._

"Password?" The Fat Lady's voice droned, and he groggily looked up at her usual pompous stature. "Well, have you got the password or not?" Rolling his eyes, Jake pulled out a slip of paper with a couple words he didn't understand written across it and held it up for her to see. She frowned down at him and snorted as she swung forward, "A proper wizard would say the password aloud. One person finds that scrap and the password's good for nothing." Jake stuck his tongue out at her and pushed through the tunnel into the common room beyond. Students lounged about here and there, but the couch by the fire was unclaimed and Jake eagerly fell into it, letting the warmth from the flames melt into his still soaked clothing.

He reached beneath his robe and pulled out a small leather journal, holding it gently in his hand. _I could ask Stout, he's had to put up with wizards his whole life. Maybe he'll have some advice?_ He opened the book to the first blank page, imagining how the conversation would go. _"Absolutely not, don't even think of it, Jake! They'll kill you, skin your family, and enslave all dragons if you tell anyone, you irresponsible, selfish American!"_ Sighing, he dropped the book limply to the floor beside him and took out his coin again. _If I can't even hang with my friends, then why am I here? What's the point?_

His thumb launched the coin into the air and he watched it glitter and tumble before catching it in his palm, the side with the human face up. _Trix and Spud weren't supposed to know, but now look at them. These guys are good too and you know it, even if they are wizards._ He flicked it into the air again, this time catching it face down with the dragon embossed side showing. _But Rose finding out almost destroyed her and all magical creatures._ He scowled and threw it again: dragon. _It's not just my life I'm playing with. If this hits the fan, every dragon in the world could suffer_. He chucked the coin angrily now, and it smacked against the ceiling, spiraling down to land neatly on his chest wizard face up. _When am I going to stop pretending to be their friend and start acting like one?_

There was no way to win. The fire's glow had seeped into his skin now, and he tiredly slipped the token back into his pocket, easing further into the couch. His eyes relaxed and he felt himself drift off, still turning the coin over in his mind. _H_ _eads or tails, heads or tails, how do you chose..._

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Jake blinked a few times, panicking when all he could see was pitch black.

" _John, get up!_ "

He flailed and sat upright, his eyes darting around the room and settling on the dark figure next to him. Hermione stood beside the couch, only barely silhouetted by the low embers burning in the hearth. The windows were black and the curtains drawn, and he realized his limbs were stiff as boards.

"You've been fast asleep all evening, you missed dinner," Hermione whispered. The room was empty except for them, and Jake was still struggling to calm his racing heart. The startled episode morphed into annoyance _. Slept the whole day, smooth Jake. Way to waste the weekend._ A drawn out yawn pulled at his mouth and he decided, with his day gone, to at least relocate to his more comfortable lodgings upstairs, standing from the couch and turning toward the dormitory staircase.

"Wait, John?" Jake paused, hesitating for a moment before turning back to Hermione. She stood twisting her fingers uncertainly and continued in a hushed tone, "Can I talk to you for a bit?"

 _Here we go,_ he gulped. Even if he simply ignored her tonight and went to bed, there would still be tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. This was Hermione, after all, and Jake knew her well enough to sense that she wasn't going to let this drop again. Reluctantly, he took a few steps closer to her and leaned against the back of the couch, waving for her to start.

She wasted no time dawdling. "Why don't you talk?" she asked softly.

Jake brushed a hand through his hair and shrugged, avoiding looking at her. She frowned and continued, "I know it's because of that necklace you wear, I recognized the symbol on the charm from Ancient Runes. I just don't understand _why_ you'd wear it." Jake looked further away and folded his arms. In response, she stepped around the couch and back in front of him, a few feet closer now. Her expression was that of extreme distress. "Was it your parents?" she guessed.

 _Say what now?_ Unthinking, he gawked at her, baffled.

"To stop you from doing magic?" she clarified. "Umbridge mentioned they wouldn't let you come to Hogwarts, so I thought..."

Jake smirked and shook his head. _Yo, that's actually a really good guess. Completely off track, but still._

She let out a gasp of relief. "Oh, thank heavens. I thought for sure...how silly of me," she teetered, brushing a strand of hair back and still watching Jake with concern. She almost bounced with unasked questions, but after a moment she relented and said, "It's getting late, and I don't want to pry, but...just know that...I mean..." She snapped her mouth shut and took a breath before finishing, "Listen John, if you ever need to talk to someone, you can trust me, okay?"

Jake's hand reached up compulsively and closed around the thread of his training collar. He almost took her up on that offer, but once again something held him back. Fingers trembling, he pushed off from the couch and brushed past her to the staircase, climbing up to his room without looking back. He slumped into his bed, pulled over the covers, and tried desperately to give himself over to a sleep that refused to come. When his hopes for rest had nearly vanished, a jarring thought occurred to him, an urge he hadn't felt in years.

Lifting the lid of the luggage at the foot of his bed, he dug through his spare belongings and pulled out a small pink crystal hanging from a delicate circlet of string, his chest thumping wildly as it glimmered in the moonlight.

* * *

A month's worth of thought and it had been the best explanation Hermione could think of. It made perfect sense, after all, but he'd just outright denied it. John could simply be lying, of course, but the way he'd laughed about it...no. It must be something else, but what? To intentionally hinder yourself like that was baffling, an action beyond Hermione's imagination or comprehension. Normally the mystery would have infuriated her, but for now she was simply too tired to care.

After this tortuously long day, what she really needed was rest. She picked up a small pail of water by the fireplace and poured it out on the few embers still burning in the hearth. She had set the container back down and begun walking toward the stairs to find her own bed when some out of place object slid beneath her foot. Hermione tripped to her knees, muttering frustrations under her breath, and began feeling around in the darkness. Her hand brushed against a smooth, square object, which she lifted up to her eyes, turning it over in her hand beneath the lit tip of her wand.

Something about the small leather bound book was oddly familiar to her.


	25. Into the Woods

Reality had melted away with an unnatural haste. Before his head had even hit the pillow, Jake felt himself tumbling and spiraling in darkness without any sense of direction. He flung his arms out to try and find some surface to cling to, but on he fell with every passing second proving more dizzying than the last. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, Jake stood on firm ground, his arms still huddled protectively over his head.

Salty, humid air brushed Jake's skin. Cautiously, he creaked his eyes opened and relaxed as he found himself standing on an endless beach, a clear bright sky hanging overhead with nothing but rolling waves in front of him and miles of sand behind. Distant dark blue shapes on the horizon that resembled a massive peak reminded him of the Isle of Draco, though the proportions of his landscape were all drastically wrong. It was this observation, however, that cleared his foggy mind, an excited smile pulling at his cheeks in realization. Jake looked up to the sky questioningly and clapped his hands together. The bright orb of the sun spun out of the flat blue ceiling like a turnstile and stopped on the opposite face, now showing the cratered, glowing surface of the moon set against a matching black sky dotted with stars.

"Oh this is definitely a dream," Jake reveled, lifting up his wrist to appreciate the bracelet with the dangling pink crystal. "Step one: fall asleep, check. Now for step two...just gotta find..." Before he'd finished his thought, as though he were back in the Room of Requirement, a plain wooden door suddenly appeared standing upright in the sand beside him with only a matching frame to support it. "Bingo!"

The door opened easily and Jake stepped through, arriving not onto more endless beach but into a drab grey hallway that was bent at strange angles and lined with countless doors arranged in no apparent organization. After dumping the sand from his shoes - which was just as uncomfortable as the real thing - Jake tore down the hallway, his eyes flashing over the names written over each of the doors as he passed them in a blur. Many he read were meaningless, and every now and then a familiar one would tease his curiosity, but at last Jake came to a screeching halt outside his destination. Despite the shaking in his fingers, the door swung forward for him as smoothly as his own.

Beyond was an outdoor park with blossoming trees and a warm sunset shining through the branches. Just a ways down a cobbled path to his left sat an older teenage girl in a tank top and jeans, her bright blonde hair pulled back into a bun. She was turned away and speaking with another person sitting beside her on the bench, but Jake didn't need to see her face to know he'd found the right girl. He hurried forward with an eagerness he hadn't intended, but quickly slowed his pace when he noticed the couple were engaged far more intimately than he'd realized. Though Jake barely noticed the brown haired boy he'd never seen before, his stomach did an uneasy turn as he watched Rose pull away from their kiss with a blissful smile.

"Hey there," Jake called, his voice thick.

Her blue eyes drifted over to meet his, squinting together in recognition, and she chuckled to herself lightly. "That's what I get for eating those week-old leftovers, I haven't thought about you in _forever_."

"And you used to be so nice," Jake grimaced, not enjoying the jabbing pain in his chest. He held up his wrist for her to see the jewel swinging from it, evidence of their situation.

She focused on it, her eyebrows scrunching together as she wondered aloud, "Hey, that looks just like a dream charm, but..." She sat up straighter, aghast. "Don't tell me you're...?"

"One hundred percent Am-Drag, baby," Jake answered. "Sorry for interrupting your, uh... _conversation_." Equal amounts of shame and guilty satisfaction warred within him as he watched Rose blush and jerk back to the now empty bench space beside her in a fluster. His advantage was short lived, however, when she stood in dignified rage, her arms crossed in front of her. Jake deflated a little; even in their dreams and after more than a year apart, she was still taller than him.

"What do you think you're doing here?" she barked at him. Jake grinned sadly as he realized he'd forgotten how much he loved it when Rose was mad at him.

"Yo, I can feel the warm welcome all the way over here," he jibed. When her scowl persisted, he raised his hands gently and laughed, "Come on, a dragon can't visit his old friend every once in a while?"

One of her eyebrows perked up. "No, he can't," she said flatly.

"Well I didn't get the memo." Jake strode forward and plopped down on the bench beside Rose, resolutely enduring her biting glare. He had begun to doubt her powers of forgiveness when she at last groaned and joined him on the curved metal bench, resting her chin on her hand.

"Jake, I thought this was settled. How many times have we been over this?" she scolded him, looking more exhausted than anything. "I can't even remember the last time we talked! So, sorry, but I'm not in the mood for any games. Just tell me what you want." Considering she hadn't thrown any punches yet, things were going better than Jake had expected. Then again, he couldn't help feeling maybe punches would have been easier to deal with than this cold dejection. At least then it would have felt more like the old days.

"I'm sorry." The statement was blunt and hushed, but Rose lifted her head up curiously all the same.

"Just so we're clear, what exactly are you apologizing for?" she asked.

Jake couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye and instead addressed his folded hands. "Back in Hong Kong, with the Dark Dragon," he explained. "I mixed you up in our magical business. You finally had your family back and I almost got you killed, not to mention you'd completely forgotten about everything you went through with the Huntsclan..."

"Jake." Her smooth fingers slid beneath his chin and pulled his face around towards hers. "You don't need to apologize for any of that. The Huntsclan had nothing to do with you, and it was still my choice to help back at Hong Kong. Besides, everything turned out fine." She looked at him more carefully now, for the first time with an air of concern. "What brought this on? Are you okay?"

He shifted her hand away from his chin and turned it in his own, inspecting the spiraling dragon shaped birthmark that circled her wrist. "What if I hadn't left that picture at your place back at Hong Kong?" he asked reluctantly. "Or before that? What if I'd never told you the truth about who I was?"

"Well, first of all I would have skinned you and turned you into a nice pair of boots," she joked. Jake's head drooped a little lower, and she continued more softly, "Jake, I was about to slay you when you told me, we both know you didn't have a choice."

"We _always_ have a choice," Jake muttered, unable to help himself.

Rose frowned and persisted, "If you're asking if I regret any of it, then no, I absolutely don't."

"But you were happy, with your family,..." he argued, quieting when Rose put a finger over his lips.

"Yes, I was happy with my family before I remembered you, and I was even a little happy with the Huntsclan before I knew your identity," she acknowledged. "But I also remember what it was like hunting magical creatures every day, and how it felt living with a normal family thinking the only magic in the world was in fairy tales," she scoffed with an equal amount of distaste for both cases. Shaking her head knowingly, she laughed, "I loved every second of it, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat."

The answer rang with nothing but pure sincerity. The only reason Jake was still skeptical was because it was just too good to be true. "So you're saying," he continued uncertainly, "that you're not mad at me for making you remember, even though it brought back the Huntsclan and put you in danger? Just because I needed help and missed you?"

"You're trying really hard to give me reasons to dislike you," she answered in a monotone voice, rolling her eyes. "But that's not exactly new, is it?" Sighing, she conceded, "No, Jake, I'm not mad at you for bringing back my memory, even if you did it for selfish reasons. In fact, it was probably one of the nicest things you've ever done for me." Her focus shifted off to the sunset bleeding through the trees, a reminiscent smile playing across her face. "The times we shared were the best of my life, the ones with Trixie, Spud, Fu, and Haley included." She laughed freely, "So what if it meant having some bad memories? When it comes to friends, you take the good with the bad."

A little gasp escaped her as Jake yanked her into a crushing hug. Stiff with surprise, Rose grabbed his shoulders and gently broke him off, fixing him with an unimpressed look. "So are you going to tell me what's got you weirding out like this or not?"

"Well..." Jake grimaced. "It's kind of a long story. Let's just say I've been trying to make some tough choices and thought you could help."

"And did I?" Rose smirked.

"More than you know," Jake said earnestly, standing from the bench. He looked back to the empty bench beside her, another twinge of annoyance plucking at the back of his mind. Rubbing the back of his neck, he grumbled, "The new BF looks like a nice guy."

Her cheeks flushed once again. "Oh, he's not actually...I mean _officially_...well this is a dream, right?" she teetered. Joining him on her feet, she gave him another nostalgic look and confessed, "You look older, dragon boy."

Jake's retort was cut short by a thunderous crashing noise that made him snap his eyes shut in pain. The world instantly blackened and he felt the ground disappear from underneath him as he tumbled once again through a directionless void. Slowly, color filled his vision as he looked around him in panic, seeing the faint outlines of his four-poster and curtains. A bright flash lit up the round room, followed shortly by another crack of thunder from outside.

 _Lightning...it's just lightning..._ His heavy breathing passed after a minute and Jake eagerly laid back down to return to his dream realm, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't drift off again. Part of it may have been that he'd already slept so much in the past day, and part of it was likely the fact that he couldn't keep himself from repeatedly reliving his encounter with Rose. Nothing could have conquered his misgivings like hearing her assurances, and when pale light began to filter in through his bedside window Jake wasted no time in dressing for the day, already mulling over ways to get the cleverest girl in Hogwarts alone.

Only, Hermione was nowhere to be found. Jake resumed his duty of keeping Harry in sight throughout their gloomy Sunday, yet Hermione made no appearances with her closest friends. In fact, it wasn't until the end of their weekend had come and gone and Jake was entering the Great Hall for breakfast the following morning that he found her sitting beside Potter and Weasley in the center of the most bizarre scene he'd ever witnessed in the enchanted castle.

* * *

Waking up to clear skies that morning had been as good an omen as any for Harry, but no amount of cloud-watching could have predicted the calamity he found himself in now. His hand hadn't made it to the first morsel on the table when a plucky little owl had fluttered down in front of him, followed by a larger tawny one, and then another two, and then four more. Before long, the food, plates, and goblets were hidden beneath a churning crowd of owls, each trying their hardest to shove their parcel-wrapped legs into his face.

"Harry, what'd you do?" Ron gasped, trying to fling the birds from his plate.

"I haven't done a thing!" Harry exclaimed, retrieving one of the letters and finding it in fact addressed to him. "I never get any letters, what would these all be about?"

"This is it, Harry!" Hermione shouted ecstatically, wrenching a packaged tube free of an owl and tossing it to him. "I never thought it would have been out this soon, open that one first!"

His fingers tore away the string and parchment wrapping and unfolded a strange magazine with purple covers and spiraling writing that changed color in a wave of hues as he tilted the pages. The unconventional aesthetic made much more sense when he turned back to the front and saw _The Quibbler_ scrawled across the top. Snippets along the edges advertised articles further in for "Delicious Dirigible Plum Delicacies" and "Handling Heliopath Hallucinations", but Harry's focus was drawn to the picture of himself slapped across the cover. His face was grinning sheepishly out of the painfully vibrant journal, topped with an enormous and contrastingly stately header.

__**Harry Potter Speaks Out At Last:  
The Truth About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named  
And The Night I Saw Him Return**

"It can't be, it's only been two days!" Harry wondered in bemusement.

"Father thought your article was so important that he put out the issue ahead of schedule," Luna informed him, skipping up along their benches. "He says he's sold so many that he'll have to do a reprint! Isn't it wonderful?"

Well, wonderful was certainly one word for it, Harry thought as he looked around at the still sizable throng of owls. "So what are all these, then?"

"I would imagine..." Hermione half answered, opening one of the letters and scanning along it before finishing, "...Yes! They're letters to you about the article, and this person says you convinced them about Voldemort!" Ravenously, everyone in the area grabbed letters and began reading through them, congratulating Harry on the positive ones and spitting jibes at those filled with heckles and venomous slander. Harry was halfway through his third letter, from a witch in Surrey that thought him in desperate need of shock therapy at St. Mungo's, when a girlish giggle sounded behind him.

"And what is the meaning of this?" Umbridge stood above their table, which is to say beside it, given her stature, and was eyeing the mess of papers dangerously.

"Blimey, I had no idea it was against the rules to get mail now! Better round up half the students in here for whippings," George sneered next to Harry.

"Careful, Mr. Weasley, or you'll find yourself in detention," she trilled, fixing her buggy eyes back on Harry. "Well, Mr. Potter, care to explain?"

Everyone watched him as he ruminated on his answer, eventually deciding that lying would do him no good. She was bound to read the article at some point. "I gave an interview about what happened last June, and these are letters of people who've written to me about it," he said as evenly as possible.

Her eyebrows scrunched together and her voice climbed an octave. "What do you mean 'an interview'?"

"As in someone asked me questions and I answered them, here," he derided, showing her his copy of _The Quibbler_. She snatched it away from him, her face developing a distinctly beet-like pallor. At the head table, Harry had the feeling Dumbledore was watching the exchange but appeared engaged with Professor McGonagall when Harry turned to look.

"When," she hissed through clenched teeth, "did you do this? Hogwarts has had no guests in the past month, so unless you somehow left the school grounds, which is an offense punishable by _expulsion_..." Harry's stomach dropped through the floor. He very well couldn't tell the truth, that they'd snuck out to the Shrieking Shack behind her back, and there was no plausible excuse that his feverish mind could think of. The panic must have shown on his face as the corners of Umbridge's scowl lifted with sinister satisfaction. When she opened her mouth to speak again, however, loud smacking sounded out. They all turned to see John - _When did he get here?_ Harry thought - pounding the table with one hand while his other was raised high into the air. He looked just as terrified as Harry felt.

"Don't interrupt me, Mr. Long," Umbridge warned him, but he shook his head and pointed down at himself frantically with his raised hand. Umbridge squinted her eyes at him and asked smoothly, "Are you trying to say _you_ know about how Mr. Potter accomplished this?"

Harry glared at him incredulously as he took a quill from his bag and scribbled across the back of one of Harry's letters, shoving the paper into Ron's hand beside him and nodding towards Umbridge. Her toad-like grin widened as she patiently watched Ron look over the note, his lips moving as he read the words. "Wait, mate, are you sure..." he whispered.

"Read it, Mr. Weasley," Umbridge commanded triumphantly.

Ron gave Harry a squeamish look before reluctantly reading, " _It was me, I asked Potter the questions_." Utter confusion swept through Harry, and he looked to Hermione for affirmation only to find her glaring savagely at John.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, dear," Umbridge lilted, holding tightly to her confident smile while she tried to process the information and referenced the magazine. "It clearly says here that this article was authored by Ms. Rita Skeeter, not Mr. Jonathan Long." Luckily, she did not have long to wait for her answer as John had already finished another message and handed it to Ron.

" _I mailed his answers to Rita and asked Uncle Stout to convince her to write it_ ," Ron orated, gasping with comprehension as he finished. "I forgot your uncle was in with the Ministry, you've got connections!"

"You mean to tell me," Umbridge seethed, grimacing at John, "that _you_ sent this to Ms. Skeeter?" John nodded. "Not Mr. Potter?" she asked petulantly, reddening as he shook his head. " _What_ have I told you about properly addressing your professors, Mr. Long?" To all of their surprise, instead of repeating himself with her assigned gestures, John crossed his arms in front of him and returned her wilting look with a challenging one of his own. Her rage was so palpable that Harry could have sworn he could see the steam wafting off of her flushed skin when she returned her attention to him.

"The nerve..." she fumed, all childish mockery absent from her shuddering voice. "How dare you...to even think of doing this..." Harry couldn't stop himself from leaning away from the shaking woman. "Fifty points from Gryffindor. I thought I'd taught you to not spread these lies, Mr. Potter, but it seems you've forgotten your place once again. Another week of detention ought to help, and Mr. Long will join you tonight," she glared sideways at John, "for his _blatant_ disobedience." They all watched her trot away, the purple magazine crushed in her fist and velvet bow bobbing atop her hair.

"Well that was entertaining," Fred commented idly before rising from the table.

"What was that for?" Harry snapped at John, who remained pleasantly unconcerned about the turn of events. His response was to toss another letter to him with _You're welcome_ scribbled on the back. "But now you've got detention tonight with her, too!" he argued, but John only winked back and continued his meal, flicking away the feathers and paper littering the table.

Despite his initial frustration, Harry discovered as the day went on that he was in truth very grateful for John's intervention. He thus far remained not expelled and within hours another Educational Decree had been posted throughout the school, banning the reading of _The Quibbler_. Of course, this meant that there wasn't a single student who hadn't at least perused the article, bringing Harry and the others more attention than they would have otherwise liked. Questions about the story and admiring remarks came from students and professors alike, and it was clear that Hermione had indeed achieved what Harry had been fighting the past year for with just a thirty minute interview in a rundown shack.

"If I'd known it would go this well, I would have written to Luna's dad ages ago," Harry marveled as he, Ron, and Hermione walked up the lawns after Herbology with the rest of their class, many of whom were browsing through concealed copies of _The Quibbler_.

"Did you see the look on Malfoy's face? Brilliant, it was," Ron chortled. "Rat out all their Death Eater fathers, tell everyone about You-Know-Who, and you even got in a bit about the dragons at the end. Couldn't have gone better, if you ask me."

Harry smiled wistfully. "I wonder if Jake and the others will ever see it."

"I wouldn't bet on it, there isn't an owl alive that could make the trip across the pond," Ron reminded him. "You could try sending them one through muggle post if you really wanted. I wouldn't blame you, I miss them too. At least when Jake was here I could get my hands on a Quaffle without - oof!" John, who had been walking ahead of them, had stopped suddenly and stood stock-still, right in Ron's oblivious path. Ron only recoiled a step when they collided while John flailed his arms and fell forward to his knees.

Harry cringed and bent down, holding his hand out to him. "Careful, John, you okay?" John kept kneeling, his head low and the green tips of his hair rustling with the wind. "Er...John?"

The boy snapped his head up and quickly stood, patting himself around his robes and digging into his pockets until he withdrew his usual quill. Instead of searching for paper, however, he scratched the feather along his palm and held it out urgently for them to see the word _Jake_ smeared along his skin.

" _Jake_ ," Ron read aloud, uncomprehending. John pointed at it over and over pleadingly. Ron asked, "What about him? He was one of the Dragons from the beginning of the year..." John wrote across his hand again, adding a scribbled _Dragons?_ further down his palm.

"That's right, Ron, he wasn't here for the Dragons of Draco Isle," Harry explained, turning back to John. "Your uncle didn't tell you about them?" John shook his head but smiled encouragingly, so Harry continued, "Well, they were these big dragons, almost as tall as Hagrid-"

"I thought they were taller?" Ron interjected.

"-with wings and tails and everything. And they talked like us, too," Harry rambled. He pointed a finger off towards the lake on the other side of the grounds and added, "They lived in this big cave over the Black Lake. We call it the Dragon's Den and you can see it from the beach, but it's off limits and can't be reached without flying."

"Jake was one of the Dragons," Ron picked up excitedly. "Nice bloke, really good at Quidditch, too. He told us all about the Dragons and how..."

"That's enough!" Hermione interrupted sternly, standing between them and John. "The Dragons are gone and that's the end of it. Now, if you two don't hurry up, you'll be late for your detention with Umbridge," she finished, cutting off their surprised retorts and glowering at John with the same ruthless glare from earlier. He backed away, as bewildered as the rest of them, and trudged ahead up to the castle.

"Looks like he's not the only lunatic," Ron scolded, shifting his bag over his shoulder and following John up the path. Hermione still had a strangely lethal and determined look about her, so Harry didn't pry into the outburst and instead dreaded every step towards Umbridge's office. By the time he'd climbed the stairs, walked the corridors, and reached her office door, John was already leaning against the wall and waiting for him.

Harry only had to knock once to hear her sweet little, "Come in." John followed behind as he pushed his way inside, where two desks waited for them with accompanying chairs, rolls of paper, and blood red quills.

* * *

 _Think, Jake, think! What did you do to piss off Hermione?_ What limited experience Jake had with women was still enough to know that they could have their unpredictable, irrational moments, but Hermione had seemed the more solid, level-headed type. This only made it more confusing, then, why she just up and hated him with every fiber of her being all of the sudden. Every time he looked at her, she was looking right back and it was never with kind or remotely gentle intent. The complete change in behavior had stolen away the confidence from his dream, and it left him with a wake of numbing depression.

Then again, maybe the despair was a product of his current environment. Jake couldn't really imagine anyone besides Umbridge being happy in this abhorrently pink and china-infested room. His chair was uncomfortable, the perfume was nauseating, and frankly the only pleasurable part of it was the fact that the window nearest him provided an excellent view of the Forbidden Forest and the surrounding grounds. _I didn't see her at all yesterday, and she already had that look at breakfast this morning, so what could it be? Maybe it's because she was wrong about my training collar...or because I didn't say anything after that...as if I could with the way she's acting..._

"As for you, Mr. Long," Umbridge called. Jake sat up at his desk and watched groggily as she waddled over from where Harry was already writing on his parchment with gritted teeth. "You will also be writing lines for me using that quill. You will not need ink."

The malevolent tone to her voice made his hair stand on end. _Writing lines? So where does the crazy bleeding come in, because there's no way Harry was faking what I saw last time_.

Misinterpreting his quizzical look, she continued, "You will write 'I must always obey' until the lesson has...left its impression." Grinning broadly, she returned to her desk and perched on her chair, flipping through her own stack of papers.

 _I must always obey, huh? Not on your life, lady_. Jake picked up the scarlet red feather and scribbled out his first line in a blur, bringing the quill tip back for the next one. Before he could start the first letter, however, a flash of pain tore at his hand and made him drop the feather. Jake watched the words he'd just written on the paper appear on the back of his hand in the form of fresh cuts splitting open on their own, drops of blood popping out from the wounds. His necklace spared him the embarrassment of crying out in pain, but he still gave the terrible woman a quick hate-filled glare as she watched him squirm from her desk.

"Any questions, dear?" she asked innocently.

He shook his head slowly, and she in turn pouted pitifully. " _Ah ah_ , seems you need more lines. You may continue."

Jake had to fight to look back at his paper but was intrigued to see his hand had already healed and was only slightly pink, as if he'd scrubbed it too hard while bathing. With every line he wrote, however, the words would rip his skin open and close it shut again, each time healing just a little bit less. By the time he'd reached the end of his first page, the back of his hand was a covered by an angry welt that ached and itched relentlessly. Every so often, he would steal a look out the window and watch as the Sun sank lower in the sky and the shadows from the forest grew longer. Jake's attention had trailed back to the treeline after what felt like hours had passed and the Sun was nearly set when he noticed a flutter of movement. It had been brief, but for a moment Jake had thought he'd seen...

 _It's them_. Jake sprang up to his feet. Just where he'd been focusing, several black shapes had burst up from the treeline and circled above it a few times before diving back down. All manner of magical creatures and untold mysteries filled those woods, but there was no mistaking the wings, tails, and smoky outlines of the shade demons. _That's gotta be Chang or the big guy, but why are they here? If they're working with Volde-gag..._ His thoughts drifted to Potter, sitting at his desk just behind him. _It's gotta be Potter, and if they can take down a prison then this place doesn't stand a chance..._

"Everything alright, Mr. Long?" Umbridge twittered, her words failing to reach Jake. Everyone was in danger, every student, professor, and gutless creep. Comparatively, the sound of Umbridge's voice had never been so meaningless to him. Making up his mind, Jake picked up the papers he'd filled with crimson lines, walked over to drop them on her desk, and laid a hand over his head. The gesture brought another annoying smile to her lips, but Jake kept his composure while she examined him. A single drop of blood dripped down from his hand and landed on the tip of his nose.

"Show me," she demanded with her arm held out. Jake presented his hand, grimacing as she looked over his unhealed cuts with a contented sigh. "I trust your misbehavior today won't happen again?" she asked quietly. Jake clapped both hands over his head, keeping the injured one on top. "Good," she chirped, "You may go, Mr. Long. Mr. Potter, you may leave for tonight as well. I'll see you tomorrow, same time."

Harry looked surprised but didn't argue as Jake rushed out the door, trailing right after him. In yet another surprise, Jake ran straight into none other than Hermione in the corridor outside. "Harry!" she said with relief, still brandishing a filthy look for Jake.

"Hermione?" Harry wondered. "What are you doing here?"

She never looked away from Jake. "I was just worried about you, that's all," she answered curtly. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about, _alone_."

 _There's an army of darkness right down the hill, I_ so _don't have time for this_. Jake rolled his eyes and gave a lazy salute with his dirty hand before turning on his heel and sprinting down the hall. Harry called after him, but soon Jake had turned the corner and was flying down the stairs. _I should get Dumbledore in on this, he'll want to know there are demonic reptiles staking out in his forest...no, there's not enough time. I don't even know if I remember where his office is anyways..._

The Sun was now completely hidden by the mountains as he raced down the grassy hill toward the trees, burning orange and red radiating across the sky. As far as he was aware he hadn't passed anyone or caused any alarm in his mad dash, though if he lost to his mortal enemy in the middle of a deadly forest it would hardly matter. Making it through the first bit of foliage was simple enough, but the trees began growing closer together and the underbrush was becoming unbearable. Between his ragged breathing and pounding heart, Jake was almost certain he could hear that haunting, dreadful laughter in the distance. The canopy above him filtered out the sky, light became scarce, and the darkness surrounding him was soon all but absolute.

There was the sound of rustling leaves and a twig snapping. Jake froze and lifted his fists, looking around at the endless trunks surrounding him. He could see nothing, feel nothing, but his own mounting terror. _This is so messed up,_ _I'm gonna die in the middle of Nowhere, Wizardville_. Turning slowly in a circle, he searched the shadows fruitlessly. _Man, gramps is gonna be beyond furious, and just wait until Trix finds out. She'll tear down half of Brooklyn by herself..._

Thickets crunched behind him, and Jake threw a whirling kick at the attacker. Instead of a dragon or demon, he smacked his foot into the bare torso of man. Well, a _half_ -man, Jake noticed.

"On whose authority have you come here, _wizard_?" the creature demanded, completely unfazed by the blow.

It felt like his chest had imploded. _Oh BABY, am I glad to see you!_ Jake waved his hands defensively and tried to talk, which was a foolish attempt considering the ornament still dangling around his neck. _I swear, one day I am gonna_ burn _this stupid hunk of_...

"You chose not to defend yourself? So be it," the centaur sneered, pulling a bow off of his back and nocking an arrow.

Jake's joy evaporated in an instant and he ripped the necklace off of his neck. "YO! Chill, it's me! The American Dragon!" he yelled, the collar dangling from his hand.

"The American Dragon?" A growl rumbled deep in the centaur's throat and he barked back, "I do not believe you. Several moons have passed since last we saw the American Dragon."

"Dude, seriously, if I prove it will you just put down the bow?" The centaur made no reply, but Jake still concentrated on the fire within him, which now felt like a storm of flames without the damned collar on, and poured his energy into his left hand. A torrent of embers engulfed it and left behind a thick dragon's hand, complete with scales and claws. "There, you see?" Jake pleaded. "I'm one of the good guys, so could you _stop pointing that thing at me_?"

The centaur thought for a good while with an odd gleam in his eyes before he eased off his arrow. "So, the English Dragon sends another to fulfill his duty to us?" he ridiculed.

"No! I mean, sort of, but not really, no," Jake stuttered. "I'm kind of doing an undercover job up at the school right now, I'm not taking over for Stout or anything."

"Then why do you intrude here?" the centaur pried. Between the trees behind him, Jake could see more centaurs observing, and the more he looked the more sets of weary eyes he could see in their surroundings.

"I'll cut to the chase," Jake answered, his focus returned again to searching the darkness around them. "I'm looking for two dragons, one purple, one black, both as evil and wack as they come. I thought I saw them here from the castle, but I haven't found anything yet. Have you ever run into them?"

Another bout of silence passed before the centaur answered in a deep, rumbling, voice, "I have seen nothing of what you described. No dragons have entered these woods since you last departed with your brethren."

"Say what?" Jake flinched. "That can't be right, I saw..."

"You doubt me, American Dragon?" The aggression in his voice made Jake swallow hard. The centaur stamped his hooves testily, his heavy chin set with displeasure. "Dragons may think themselves our guardians, and the Ministry our _slavers_ , but these are Centaur woods and alone among my tribe am I their master!"

"Alright, no sweat! I read you loud and clear, no dragons," Jake agreed, his fear renewed and wanting nothing more than to leave the maddening forest. Jake politely announced, "Looks like everything checks out, so I'll just go ahead and, uh, get off your turf, then."

The horseman's disturbingly beady eyes watching him, Jake hurried quickly back into the thickets of trees and off in what he desperately hoped was the direction of Hogwarts. "Centaurs, man, you don't see a guy in months and the first thing you do is try to kill him?" he complained aloud. "So much for gratitude." Specks of light were starting to pop up as the canopy thinned overhead, a calming sign for Jake as he slipped the necklace back over his throat. _But I know I saw something, that wasn't just a daydream. I guess they could have been those freaky skeleton-horse-things...Thestrals, right?_ A fresh breeze began to brush over Jake, and he eagerly charged through the thinning trees to the dim source of light ahead. _If I make it back before it's totally dark, then I won't have to risk flying...ugh, but what I wouldn't do for one lap around the lake right now._

Pushing through the last few bushes, Jake at last broke away from the forest and found himself in the open. He was disappointed, however, to find that he had not made it out of the Forbidden Forest but was instead only in a small clearing. Mostly empty but for a couple of torn up trees and a massive boulder at one end, it was maybe big enough to hold a couple of trailer homes and at least afforded him a view of the graying sky. The only problem was that Jake had passed no such place on his way in and, feeling confident in his blundering up until then, was now convinced that he had succeeded in becoming lost.

The world was dimming with every passing second, and Jake's patience was wearing thin. _I don't care if half the school sees me, there's no way I'm going back into those trees._ Anxious to be rid of the Forbidden Forest, Jake reached up to remove his burdening necklace once again, vaguely imagining Stout cringing in the distance. Yet his fingers only just brushed against the cord before a familiar shout filled the quiet clearing.

_"Petrificus totalus!"_

* * *

"How can you say that, Hermione?" It was exactly as she'd feared and already she could feel herself fighting a losing battle. "Don't get me wrong, I had my doubts about John before, but he stuck his neck out for us today and he's been one of the best D.A. members since he joined. What makes you think he's out to get me?"

"Just think about it Harry," she begged him. "It's the way he acts, how it always feels like he's hiding something from us-"

"He can't even _talk_ , Hermione."

"-and there's something else, too." She reached into her bag and pulled out the small leather book she'd found the previous night. "John dropped this, it's like his journal."

Harry had a disappointed look as he asked despairingly, " _Please_ tell me you didn't read his journal, Hermione." Her grimace was affirmation enough. "That's private, Hermione! You ought to know that!"

"I know, and it was wrong of me," she admitted, "but Harry, this isn't an ordinary journal, it's a Replitome! I read all about them in the library yesterday. They come in pairs and are enchanted so that anything that's written in one appears in the other. That way, two people can use them to communicate directly over any distance."

Harry's disgust momentarily shifted to admiration. "That's actually really useful."

"It is!" Hermione agreed emphatically, "And the person John's been talking with is his uncle, Mr. Stout!" She opened the book and began flipping pages at a blazing speed. "I read through their conversations, and most of the later pages are just casual talk about school and other nonsense, but in the first few parts..."

"Hermione." His hands clapped under the two covers of the Replitome and forced it shut. "I don't care who he talks to or what he says to them, I trust John and that's all there is to it." Gingerly cradling his still bleeding hand, Harry brushed past her down the hallway, calling over his shoulder, "I'm going to get something for my hand. You should find John and give that back to him, he's probably looking for it right now."

The desperation was building inside of her. Why wouldn't he listen to her? If only she'd gotten straight to what worried her so much, maybe he would have understood, but as usual Harry was stubbornly following his gut. It was enough to make Hermione dig her nails into John's book from the absurdity of it all. "Fine," she said aloud to herself. "I'll return this to John, but not until we've had a little chat."

Tracking John down proved far from simple. By chance Hermione found Pavarti outside the Great Hall, who happened to see him run out into the fields, and Hermione just caught his outline disappearing into the treeline of the Forbidden Forest in the distance. Regardless of what reason he could possibly have for entering those woods, a nasty feeling had nestled itself in Hermione's stomach and she chased after him down the sloping lawns and into the foreboding mass of trees. Without so much as a trace of her target, she blindly trudged into the forest, hoping that whatever had drawn John was not too far into the darkness.

It was difficult to really know what 'too far' even was, as both distance and time lost meaning in the sea of trees. More than once, Hermione strongly considered turning back, but she wasn't even certain if she could find her way should she try. Before her doubts could get the better of her, she at last came upon a small clearing, filled with fallen trees and a mound of dirt at the far end, and decided to rest. Through the gap in the treetops, she could see the once amber sky had already become a dark gray.

Only yards away, something came bulldozing out of the trees, and Hermione quickly hid behind the nearest trunk. Slipping her hand into her robe to grab her wand, she listened intently at the sound of tired breathing and carefully edged out from behind her cover. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw John's green tips and battered robes, his back turned as he looked up to the sky. His hand was reaching up toward his neck when impulse took control and Hermione swung out from behind her tree, her wand raised high.

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ The bolt of light shot forward, yet just like in their duels John leaned aside with frustrating agility and dodged the attack. In the blink of an eye, he had his own wand out and stood wary, looking intently in her direction. Hermione twirled her wand once more and watched John tense for an attack that wasn't coming. " _Accio necklace!_ "

The ornament zipped away from his neck and slipped between his fingers as he tried to make a grab for it. Hermione snagged it from the air and stepped further into the clearing's meager light, shouting, "Lower your wand, John, I'm not here to fight you!"

As soon as she'd revealed herself, John had relaxed and wagged his wand at her disapprovingly. "Is that what you were going for? Because I got more of a 'shifty assassin' vibe," he called back sarcastically, suddenly growing much more serious. "This place is dangerous, Hermione, you shouldn't be here!"

She couldn't stop her fingers from trembling. "I could say the same for you," she retorted, pulling out the Replitome and brandishing it in front of him. "Why don't we start with this?" John stared at it in shock and promptly patted his pockets in vain. Wordlessly, he flung his arm out and his strange wave of magic came pulsing toward her. Hermione slashed her wand forward, yelling, " _Protego!_ " and watched the shimmering blast dissipate in front of her.

"This isn't a joke!" he groaned exasperatedly. "Just give that back to me and we can both get out of here!"

"I thought you were our friend," she disparaged. "Even after I learned you could talk, I still tried to help you! But then I read this, and..." Her voice hitched in her throat and she couldn't stop herself from shivering.

"Hermione, you don't understand," John begged as he took a step sideways.

"Oh, I understand perfectly well," she snapped, mirroring his movement so that they walked at opposing ends of a large circle. "I don't care what you've got to say, you aren't getting Harry. I won't let you."

John threw us hands in the air, shouting, "Would you just listen for a sec? I have NO idea what you're talking about!"

"Honestly, enough with the games," she scolded, holding the journal open with one hand and keeping her wand trained on John. Turning to the first page, she read aloud, " _I'll handle the dragons, you focus on Potter._ "

John moaned and conceded, "Okay, that sounds kind of bad."

" _Harry and his pals were talking last night about Chang's break-in,_ " she read on.

"Well it's true! That's what you were talking about!" he sputtered.

" _Oh, my bad for doing my job,_ " she recited, snapping the book shut and shoving it back into her robes. "So what's your _job_ , to hurt Harry? And I thought Mr. Stout was the one who brought the dragons in the first place, but now he's trying to prosecute them!" Hermione was having a good deal of trouble keeping her wand steady as burning betrayal built up within her. "You're going to tell me everything, why you're really here, who 'Chang' is, and why you're after Harry!"

The last thing Hermione expected was for John to fall into an uproar of laughter. Something about the sound touched at her memories, and she watched bemused as he stowed his wand in his pocket. "Hermione, you're the smartest witch I know," he applauded her, "but you literally couldn't be more wrong if you tried."

"By all means, explain it to me if it's so simple," she retorted hotly, feeling herself blush under his criticism.

"I don't even know where to start," he accepted. "How about the big stuff? Why would I have a journal just so I could talk to Stout?"

"That's obvious, isn't it?" she scoffed. "He's your Uncle, for one thing, and your contact in the Ministry, if I'm right..."

"...Which you aren't, both times," John informed her all too happily. "How's about we try something else. Did you figure out why I'm always wearing that silencing charm?"

She was wrong _both_ times? But that would mean...Mr. Stout wasn't actually his uncle? "I already told you," Hermione answered tiredly. "I thought it might have been your parents, but you already said..."

"Oh come on, Hermione," John complained. "Use that big brain! You're telling me I don't sound just a _little_ bit funny to you?"

Well, making any sound at all was funny as far as John was concerned, but now that he'd mentioned it... "You have an accent?" she realized.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" he cheered. "There's more, though, think of the little things, things friends just _know_ about each other. What do you _know_ about me?"

Her indignation burned brighter. "We've hardly ever talked before, and we're _not_ friends! I couldn't know a thing about you!" she contested. John stopped their pacing to give her a supremely withering look.

"Oh really?" he snickered. "Your middle name is Jean, you're favorite classes are Charms and Arithmancy, and you bite your lip whenever you're way over-thinking something."

"How could...I do _not_..." Pushing aside her astonishment, she wracked her brain for dirt of her own. "Well you hate Umbridge and you're awful at Transfiguration, but a pretty good duelist. There was that one time it looked like you were boxing with that dummy in the Room of Requirement...speaking of, you never did tell us how you found the room," she snapped accusingly.

John was gaping at her. "Um, Hermione?" he choked as the breeze kicked up around them.

"You're always sick in Herbology, too," she pressed on, undeterred. "Then earlier today you got excited when Ron and Harry were talking about the dragons, probably so you could try and help your awful uncle track them down..."

" _Hermione_!" The alarmed whisper refocused her long enough to see the panic clear on John's expression. He was looking at something over her shoulder and waving her over toward him very slowly, murmuring, "Come...here... _now_ _._ "

But her eyes had drifted to his palm as he called to her, seeing the black smear where he had written words earlier. "Mr. Stout must have told you, but you kept asking them about the dragons...about Jake," she muttered.

And then it hit her.

"HERMIONE!" Jake yelled, but he was too late, for she had seen the shadow falling over her and turned to look up at the most enormous, hideous person she'd ever laid eyes on. As tall as the trees with his mountainous body covered in sparse animal skins, what she had believed was a mound of dirt was now raised on massive legs and staring down at her with a dumb expression.

The giant reached down with an arm the size of a sedan and she covered her head, screaming out in terror. Heat rushing to her frozen limbs and feeling herself being lifted away by the creature, Hermione could only tremble and shriek, knowing her final thoughts would be of regret and despair.

"Yo, you can stop screaming whenever you feel like it!" Impossible as it was, her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice and her first marvel was how the giant had somehow grown tall enough to hoist her so high above the forest below. Then there was the rush of wind in her ears, along with the lack of any giant to begin with. A great shake made her cling to the bar clenched tightly over her stomach, carrying her like a sack of flour. Only, it wasn't a bar at all, but two large scaled arms.

"Don't worry, just an updraft. I won't drop you!" Tilting her head up, she could see a lengthy yellow underbelly and the tips of large red wings periodically appearing off to the sides in rhythmic beats. "Just hang tight," Jake yelled down to her, "we're almost there!" Hogwarts was fast approaching them, and before she knew it, Jake was setting her down on the paved ramparts of the astronomy tower and helping her climb shakily to her feet.

"It's really you," she whispered, glancing over the red western dragon in the torchlight. For the first time since Dumbledore had first come to her perfectly normal home when she was eleven, Hermione Granger couldn't believe her eyes.

"You know, I've met _plenty_ of muggles who've taken the news way better," Jake scoffed, two patches of flame appearing in his outstretched claws. Hermione gave another involuntary squeak as he flung his arms out and became engulfed in the embers, only to emerge unharmed seconds later as Jonathan Long, the mute fifth-year wizard. Jake ran a hand through his hair and grimaced, "This wasn't _exactly_ how I planned on telling you, but between you trying to clock me and Ugly the Giant..."

He grunted as Hermione threw her arms around him, squeezing him with every ounce of remorse and wonder she could muster.

"I knew you'd come back," she croaked with strangled laughter.

"You didn't really think I was gonna flake on you?" he teased, returning her embrace. "Please, this place is off the hook! I wouldn't miss it for the world." Hermione leaned away and shook her head, still laughing quietly to herself. "What, got something on my face?" Jake grinned.

"No, it's just," she put a hand to her mouth to stifle her smile, "I'm used to you being _taller_."

* * *

Barren fields covered Victoria Peak. Nothing stirred in the low grass and scattered rocks as Lao Shi walked through the waste, disappointed to find it as unhelpful as he had feared. His travels among the towns of England had been in vain, and in desperation he had come to where it all began, yet nothing remained of the Dark Dragon's escape. Despite his best efforts, Lao Shi was as close to finding his grandson as when he'd started and his hopes were draining fast. He was not beaten yet, however. The lights of Hong Kong shined below in the dark, the home of a certain professional he knew would help him if he came calling. Though he'd originally been adverse to the idea, he was running out of options.

The former Chinese Dragon needed help.


	26. The One-Armed Atlas

The tired, old man's shoulders sunk even further. "And you have had no luck since?"

The blonde girl sitting beside him shook her head sadly, toying with the pink gem attached to her bracelet. "I tried to reach his dreams to...uh...catch up a little more, but I can't open his door. I'm not sure why, but there's some kind of mental block." She looked down at him in confusion. "It's almost like he doesn't _want_ to talk."

Lao Shi bowed his head. "But he is fine? You are certain of that?"

Rose laughed to herself. "He was his usual self. You know Jake..." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "That's not what I meant," she apologized, but he gave no response. She pleaded desperately, "I'm so sorry, Lao Shi. If I'd known he was missing, I would've..."

"You had no way of knowing," Lao Shi interrupted, rising from the couch and bowing to her. "Knowing he is well is a gift in itself. You have my thanks."

Returning the gesture, a thought occurred to Rose. "Take this with you," she insisted, handing him her Dream Charm. "Maybe you'll have better luck getting through to him."

The aged man took the delicate bracelet in his hands and slipped it over his wrist. "I can only hope that you are right," he grieved, stepping out of the home and transforming into a large blue serpent. Lao Shi soared above a Hong Kong shrouded in dusk, still burdened with guilt but at least one step closer to finding his grandson. As small as it may have been, it was the first real lead he had, the greatest success he'd achieved thus far.

He turned toward the south where his next destination lay beyond a vast ocean that stretched to the horizon. His instincts were the only guide left to him now, and he had a long journey ahead of him.

* * *

Of Jake's many weaknesses, it was no secret that language classes were at the top of the list. Vocabulary, essays, creative writing, as a whole it was probably his worst subject, unless you counted Transfiguration. Yet despite how deficient he was in the world of literature, even Jake knew the definition of irony.

The Dragons of Draco Isle had jumped through hoops and invested months of time and effort into rebuilding connections with the wizarding community. And what did it get them? Their worst nemesis resurrected and an army of evil maniacs to back him up.

Ironic? It could have just been coincidence, or bad planning. Possibly both.

And then there was the whole 'abandoning your friends and family to ditch town and play hooky with wizards on another continent' thing. Except most of his friends had no idea who he was, the escapade wasn't nearly as enjoyable as he'd intended, and he _still_ felt crushing dread whenever he thought about going home.

Cosmic karma, probably. Or things just turning out like they usually did whenever Jake thought he had a remotely decent plan.

The worst of it, though? Oh no, completely different story.

He could have manipulated her out of harm's way, or maybe knocked her out after transforming so she wouldn't know exactly _who_ or _what_ had saved her. He could have even tried convincing her that he just happened to know the dragons through Stout. In fact, the journal was how he was staying in touch with them! Or, the simplest answer, he could have just avoided her! Maybe even whipped up a Memory Potion, started with a clean slate. Dumbledore probably could have thought of something, too, if he'd even bothered to ask.

But no. It was _one_ witch. A harmless, _intentional_ slip, because Jake was desperate. And who could blame him? Enduring a month as a pariah, living a silent lie, and having just carved up his own skin for detention and escaping a forest he'd thought was filled with certain death only to run into, of _all_ things, a monstrous, completely uncalled for _giant_?

Yes, it was a heated decision, but even after hours of reuniting with Hermione by torchlight and drowsily climbing down the Astronomy Tower to find his bed, Jake was still ecstatic. After all this time, his isolation was ended. The truth had been revealed and at last he could walk the halls of Hogwarts knowing there was one person he could confide in, who could understand and sympathize with his struggle and see through the lie that was Jonathan Long.

It was an intense euphoria, empowering and blissful.

And it lasted _maybe_ all of twenty-four hours.

"I don't understand, does the transformation produce the fire or do you have to cover yourself with flames in order to transform? It looks very unpleasant..."

Now, whenever they had the smallest of moments alone between lessons...

"How did you even manage to _get_ a wand? According to the Code of Wand Use, it's illegal for magical creatures to carry them, you know..."

...or the professor was turned away long enough in class to pass a discrete note...

"Oh, I remember this! 'Dawg' is slang for 'friend', right? So then 'Fu' is the friend that taught you so much about Potions? Er...what's so funny?"

...or it was the middle of the Great Hall at dinner and Hermione just _couldn't contain herself anymore_...

"But then...where do your _clothes_ go?"

...Jake was under attack. Forget his secret identity, he'd lost every bit of peace and quiet the moment he'd carried Hermione away from the Forbidden Forest. He thought an entire day of interrogation had been more than enough, yet a week had now passed - a very long, tedious, _exhausting_ week - and Hermione showed no signs of relenting her investigation in the near future. Or the next _century_.

Jake had taken an enormous risk in the hopes of finding someone he could relax with, a confidant he could hang around without having to act or pretend, and his wish had been granted in the most unexpected, spectacularly drastic way imaginable.

'Irony' didn't even begin to describe it.

"But how similar are you really to wild dragons, behaviorally speaking? Do you lay eggs, shed your skin every so often, perform mating displays...?"

Jake fell into a coughing fit, choking on his own spit. "Say _whaaa_? Do I _look_ like some kind of egg-laying chicken to you?" he hissed, his cheeks flushed. "And trust me, you do _not_ want to see me when I shed. Think of troll skin that's covered in hag boils and stretches like taffy. Not pretty."

He turned back to the center of their table and awkwardly raised his wand. " _Scribblifors_." Nothing. The paper in front of him remained unchanged.

Hermione squirmed with a hundred new ideas across the table. "I wonder how the properties of your scales and blood would compare with the typical varieties," she whispered thoughtfully. "And try tilting your wand back a bit farther."

"Well good luck finding a donor, 'cuz Jakey likes his blood right where it is," he muttered, adjusting his grip. " _Scribblifors_ _!_ " Still a shred of paper.

"You sort of blurred the syllables together, you have to speak more clearly," she instructed. "Have you ever encountered a wild dragon in person? Imagine if they could form some rudimentary communication with your kind..."

He shook his head in answer. "And nothing personal, but that sounds like a _really_ bad idea." Jake lifted his other hand, wagging his fingers and drawling in a sarcastic, airy wail. " _ScriiIIIIiibbliiiifooOOOoors!_ "

Hermione jerked forward. "You know, I think I actually saw some feathering that time."

"For real?" Jake gasped, lurching up from his slouch to inspect the scrap, his excitement faltering as Hermione began to laugh.

"Of course not," she admitted, rolling her eyes at his glare of betrayal. "You'd never get the spell to work that way, your form was entirely wrong."

"So not cool," he grumbled, tossing the scrap back down and slumping into his chair. The flaring yellow light from the tall windows in the library was beginning to die and the nearby candles were glowing brighter as Jake glared ruefully at the defiant piece of paper. Harry was in his private lesson with Snape for the evening, so, having nothing better to do without his ward, Jake had allowed Hermione to steal him away for her own experimentation.

It was a tragic mistake he did not intend on making again.

"I do think you were making progress, though," she encouraged him. "Transfiguration's fairly difficult, but I'm sure you'll get it in no time if we keep at it."

"You've been saying that all day, but this is a waste of time. I already told-" Hermione coughed loudly as a Hufflepuff turned the corner and eyed them curiously before moving on. Jake waited until the yellow trimmed robes swept out of sight before continuing more quietly, "I already told you like a bazillion times, I can't do your kind of magic! But _nooooo_ ," he teased softly, impersonating her with a high pitched voice. " _Y_ _ou've never even properly tried_ , _how can you know if you never try_ _?_ "

"Which is true, you said you'd never attempted any wand-based magic! And quitting before you've even started is just stubbornness," she hissed back, the serious tone undermined by her smile. "And I'm still not convinced, maybe it's only certain spells or schools of magic that you have trouble with."

Jake cocked an eyebrow and lifted his hand, extending a finger. "I can't make light," he whispered and counted on the next finger, "I can't make water, I can't stun you, and I can't turn this paper into a quill. I can't _do_ any of it because I'm _faking_ _it_ , Hermione. None of it works for me, even the useless carny tricks. The only reason I have this stupid thing," he sneered, waving his wand around, "is to blend in. Besides, if my kind of magic is good enough for the other dragons, it's good enough for me."

"You don't _know_ it can't work for you," she persisted, "and there's plenty that you don't know how to fake with your kind of magic, including most of the spells that we'll have to demonstrate in our exams! You can't just keep vanishing everything in Transfiguration and expect no one to notice!"

"Hey, if I can fool _you_ for a solid month, I think I'll be fine," he smirked, snapping his mouth shut as an exhausted Ravenclaw shuffled by with a messy pile of books in her arms.

"I'm not the one you should have been worried about," Hermione argued after the girl had disappeared. "Even if I had figured out your identity on my own, nothing _bad_ would have come of it..."

"I'm pretty sure going deaf counts," Jake remarked.

Hermione wasn't impressed. "Did you even think of what could happen if Professor McGonagall found out? What about the rest of the DA? Or _Umbridge_ _?"_ she contested, now openly concerned. "I don't care to imagine what that horrid woman would do if she knew who you really were. And with the way things are going now, it's only a matter of time before someone gets suspicious of you."

As reluctant as he was to admit it, Jake couldn't dispute her point. The longer he stayed, the more lessons he attended. And the more lessons he attended, the more he would have to try and pass off his own tricks. And the more he tried fooling a school of wizards with fake magic and unconvincing stick-waving...well, _that_ didn't have a pleasant ending.

Hermione leaned closer to him over the table, looking around cautiously. "Of course, if we _can't_ improve your spellwork, there are other ways of protecting you," she whispered, idly twiddling her fingers.

Jake's head fell into his hands. "I'm all ears," he moaned.

"We could get help," she answered with steeled determination. "The more _trustworthy_ people we have to make excuses for you and back up your story, the better your chances of staying hidden."

" _Hermione_..." Jake mumbled dangerously, looking back up at her with a warning leer.

"If you'd just let me tell Harry and Ron..." she begged.

"No." The answer was absolute, nonnegotiable.

Hermione didn't flinch. "Why not?" she questioned him.

"You _promised_ Hermione," he pointed a stiff finger at her.

To her merit, Hermione took the cold reply in stride. Folding her arms, she persisted, "What's the harm in telling your friends about your disguise? Honestly, Jake, I'm surprised you've kept at it this long. Who cares if you're a dragon?"

"The Ministry of Magic, that's who. And being a dragon isn't the problem," Jake clarified, pointing at his face. "It's being a dragon that looks this _fine_. Dumbledore might be chill with our human bodies, but I wouldn't bet my lunch money on the rest of your higher-ups feeling the same."

"So this is because you've got human forms as well?" she scoffed, unbelieving. "I'm sorry, Jake, but I fail to see how that's so important."

"How it's so important? _How it's...?_ " It took tremendous effort for Jake to bite his tongue. Hermione watched innocently as his temper subsided and he took a deep, calming breath before addressing her with a patient smile. "Who's your favorite superhero, Hermione?"

She blinked a few times. "Pardon?"

"Superhero, like from comics or movies. You know, Batman, the Hulk, Iron Man, c'mon you're killing me here."

"Well I don't know!" she griped. "I've never read anything about them before!"

"You're telling me you were raised by _muggles_ and you've never watched a movie with a superhero?" Jake asked, utterly incredulous. "Not even a _cartoon?_ "

"I never really liked the telly," she admitted. When Jake failed to lift his critical gaze, she sighed and offered, "Isn't there one that swings around and climbs buildings?"

"Spiderman, my homeboy! Good choice," Jake applauded. "Okay, now stick with me here. So Spiderman always goes out every day and fights some crime, kicks some bad-guy butt, you know, the usual. But why don't Doc Ock or the Green Goblin just take him out while he's asleep, or go after his family instead?"

This time, Hermione was ready with her answer. "They don't know who he is, of course. He wears a costume." Jake nodded with encouraging gestures until Hermione continued with a skeptical look, "You're saying that you're like Spiderman? And that this is your costume?"

"Exactly! I mean sort of...well, not really," he backpedaled, "cos Spiderman's secret identity is Peter Parker, but here the Am-Drag is Jonathan Long's secret identity, so it's kind of backwards...but you get the point!"

Now it was Hermione's turn on the defensive, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line. "You think that if witches and wizards knew about your humanity, you'd be in danger," she guessed flatly.

The air around them chilled and Jake's spirits grew morose. "Not just me," he admitted, his hand reaching compulsively to the journal tucked within his robes. "Word would spread, and before you knew it we'd all be living under rocks. Every dragon in the world would get put on the spot, along with their friends, their families..."

Hermione's chair scraped sharply against the floor as she stood and leaned forward, planting her hands firmly on the table. "You can't really think we'd be that barbaric!" she accused him. "What possible reason would the Ministry have to attack you all?"

"They sure seemed ready to jump the gun with the Hogsmeade incident," Jake laughed dryly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Even if they could track you through your human identities, they wouldn't condone a _genocide_!"

Her resolute faith in the common good only made it more difficult for Jake to hold her gaze. "Hate to crash your party, Hermione," he mumbled, "but yeah, they would, and they've done it before." He joined her on his feet and pretended to inspect the shelf of Herbology texts behind him, struggling to explain, "A long time ago, like hundreds of years or something, wizards knew everything about us. But there was some kind of war and..."

"A war?" she asked, her voice hitching.

Jake nodded. "A pretty one-sided one from what Stout told me. I don't know why, but wizards started hunting us down, finding us through our human lives and taking us out left and right, and I'm not just talking about here in the UK. It got so bad that we were almost completely wiped out, and ever since then we've been trying to - _hey!_ "

With unnatural strength, Hermione snared Jake's arm and dragged him away from the table, tearing off across the library. Jake followed helplessly, keeping his mouth shut as passerby gave them startled looks. It wasn't until Hermione came to a halt at the base of another intimidating bookcase that he quietly questioned her. "What was _that_ about? Are you trying to-?"

" _Shhh!_ " Jake gaped affronted while she continued to scan the books, growing more distressed with every row she glanced through. That same look from earlier, of intense thought and desire, dominated her expression. When she'd passed the last of the spines, she climbed to her feet and shook her head slowly. "It's no good, they probably wouldn't leave them out for public reading."

"I still have no idea what you're wigging out over! _W_ _ho_ wouldn't leave _what_ out _where?_ " Jake whispered.

"This 'war' you mentioned," Hermione replied over her shoulder, striding away and passing several more rows of shelves while Jake rushed to keep pace. "I've never heard of it before, which is _very_ strange. It definitely isn't mentioned in _A History of Magic_ , and when you all arrived near the beginning of the year, I looked through every book I could find to try and learn more about the Dragons of Draco Isle. Bestiaries, historical documents, political transcripts, everything I could think of, which is precisely the problem, of course. I _didn't_ think to check any war records."

A sharp turn of her heel later and Hermione arrived at a metal fence running through the library, barring passage to the tiers of shelves beyond it. Jake leaned against the barrier to catch his breath while she slid her fingers around the imposing bars, glaring longingly at the books beyond her reach. "Hogwarts has reading material on almost anything you can imagine, but literature on magical wars could be dangerous. The school would want to keep it in the Restricted Section."

"So...what...?" Jake heaved beside her.

She fixed her determined stare on him. " _So_ , we aren't allowed in the Restricted Section without permission. But I _have_ to know, _we_ have to know. What if it was only a small group of witches and wizards that attacked the Dragons of Draco Isle?" she asked rhetorically. "Or what if it was just some folk tale blown out of proportion? Or maybe it was all some kind of a misunderstanding? We can't know what really happened without some kind of _evidence_."

"No prob, girl," Jake laughed softly, straightening up and cracking his knuckles. "I think you forgot who you're talking to. Time for us to take a little tour, Am-Drag style." Before she could intervene, he flexed his fingers, imagined their path unimpeded, and flicked his arms.

A narrow portion of the bars vanished with a gentle _swish_.

"Jake!" Hermione hissed in alarm, scanning the aisles behind them for witnesses. "You can't just do that, I told you we aren't allowed in the Restricted Section without a professor's written approval! If Madam Pince were to find us..."

Jake promptly sidled past her into the Restricted Section, running his fingers along the slightly more dusty ledges filled with forbidden knowledge. "Hey, no sweat Hermione, I don't wanna get you in trouble. I guess I'll just have to take a look around all on my own, then. It'll probably take forever, though. I mean there are _so_ many books..."

"But you...we _can't_..." Her hair swung wildly as she whirled back over her shoulder again. There wasn't a soul in sight. "Oh, _fine then!_ " she spat, scurrying after him. " _Five_ minutes, and not a second more!"

"That's more like it!" Jake cheered. Crossing the threshold, Hermione guided their search amongst the scarcely touched tomes and led Jake to their destination in record breaking time. Digging through the stand, however, proved more challenging. As it happened, the Hogwarts archives extended back for over a millennium, and witches and wizards certainly hadn't hesitated to fill it with countless battles and skirmishes. Defensive stratagems, militia rosters, peace treaties, flight formations, Jake and Hermione were already knee-deep in texts and forms by the time Hermione's allotted five minutes had come and passed. Yet even as they plowed on, the only dragons Jake could find any mention of were the ones that stole cattle and set fire to hamlets. The Dragons of Draco Isle were nowhere to be found.

"I'm not getting jack, Hermione. What about you?" Jake whispered. When only silence answered him, he turned back to the fifth-year Gryffindor. "Hermione?"

She sat cross legged on the floor, focused intently on something small cradled in her hands and shaking her head gently as Jake approached. "I think I've found something," she whispered, showing him a delicate and ancient looking little pamphlet. Unfolding the weathered parchment, Jake saw a mess of unreadable lettering and a few sketches scribbled in faded ink. Most of it made no sense to him, but the image in the center was clear enough to set his teeth on edge.

A crudely drawn, proud looking wizard stood with both arms raised. One held his wand high, and from the other hung the severed head of a dragon. At his feet lay the decapitated body of an ordinary, naked man.

" _Beware the Imposters_ ," Hermione breathed. "That's all I can make out. A few of the characters are runes, but the rest is some kind of old English. I think it's a sort of warrant or warning flier from the 1500's, long before even the Ministry existed."

Jake handed the damning paper back to her, trying to contain his disgust. "Is that enough _proof_ for you?" he sneered darkly. Hermione continued to stare blankly at the bill, as though struggling to accept the sight before her.

"It has the old Wizard's Council seal, so it was official," she noted, examining the artifact intently. "It doesn't appear to be forged or altered after the fact...but why? There must be a reason here somewhere..."

That her undying optimism persisted even in the face of undeniable truth genuinely annoyed Jake. "You want a reason? Try this: wizards couldn't boss us around, so they did what they do whenever something pops up that they don't like. They _got rid of it_."

Picking at the corner of the paper, Hermione found a crease where the parchment had folded and stuck together. Peeling the sheets apart revealed more, much less faded writing inside. She glanced over the writing a few times and, straining with the effort, slowly translated, " _Demons made to look of man...Keepers of most tainted treasures...Masters of death by foulest magic...Slay them and their traitor King_."

Hermione gazed up at him, perplexed and speechless. Jake felt numb, the words seeping into him and drowning his senses in a rush of freezing shock.

"Say WHAT?"

A shrill sound made both of their heads snap around. In the distance, echoing through stone halls and trails of shelves, a woman's scream filled the air.

* * *

"Get up, Potter!"

Harry's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself on the ground in Snape's eerie office. He couldn't recall falling, but the throbbing lump on the back of his head left little room for debate. Shakily getting to his feet, he struggled to try and process what he'd just seen while Snape fixated him with a look of pure, seething rage.

"What was that?" Snape yelled. "How did those thoughts come to enter your mind?"

"I...I dunno," Harry stuttered honestly. When Snape had begun his next mental intrusion, Harry had yet to empty his mind and was for all intents and purposes a sitting duck. Immediately, his mind flew away from him and he found himself rushing down the black marble corridor that led to the Department of Mysteries, the stolid black door waiting like always at the end. Only this time, as he approached his destination, the door flung itself open and he continued onward, entering a circular room lined with, naturally, _more doors_. He'd been so thrilled to throw them open and race onward, but before he could even take a step...

"You're lazy! Arrogant!" Snape sneered from across his desk. Harry couldn't stop himself from glaring back at the black cowled man. "I would have thought after two months of practice you would have mustered at least a _shred_ of resistance, but still you prove yourself a helpless target for the Dark Lord!"

"I thought," Harry spat back, "that only Death Eaters called Voldemort 'the Dark Lord', _professor_."

His scowl rearing, Snape's retort was cut short by the sound of distant screaming. Both of them looked to the roof above them as the wailing continued and was slowly drowned in a swelling uproar. Snape and Harry shared a look, both reading the other's confusion, before they hurried for the office door and rushed up the stone staircase toward the main hall.

It wasn't hard to find the source of the commotion. At the foot of the Grand Staircase, a sea of students filled the cavernous room from the closed castle entryway to the doors of the Great Hall. Harry pushed through the throng until he came upon Hermione and John standing quietly among the spectators with forlorn expressions.

"What's going on?" Harry asked them, but Hermione only shook her head and pointed toward the middle of the crowd. There, Harry found what had the room captivated, and it made his stomach turn.

"Y-You can't d-do this!" Professor Trelawney bawled. She stood alone in a circular gap in the assembly, her left hand clutching a half empty bottle of cooking sherry and her right crushing a laced tissue. Two fat suitcases sat on the floor at her sides. "Hogwarts has b-been my h-home for years! I re...I refuse to a-accept it!"

Harry had to crane his neck to see the target of her scorn, hidden from him by the bodies of the students in front of him. "As hopeless as you are at making even the smallest of predictions, even _you_ must have seen this coming," Professor Umbridge trilled. "Not only are you pathetic in your own field of instruction, you've failed every one of my evaluations and haven't improved in the slightest. As High Inquisitor, it is my job to ensure the quality and standards of the instructors here at Hogwarts, and you my dear," she sighed with false pity, "simply aren't up to scratch."

Umbridge's pleased little grin stretched to her ears. "You're excused."

The sight of his eccentric Divination professor in hysterics and surrounded by the currently gawking school body was enough for even Harry to feel empathy for the woman, so much so that he was about to step forward when Professor McGonagall beat him to the punch. Her tall form swept forward from the crowd, descending on the hiccupping woman tangled in shawls and embracing her gently.

"There, there Sybill...it's okay," she comforted Professor Trelawney with soothing pats. "Come now, you won't have to leave..."

"I believe, Minerva, that you are quite mistaken," Professor Umbridge spoke up defensively. "It appears that you are not aware of the circumstances, so allow me to explain. By order of the Ministry of Magic, I have complete authority over the removal of any inadequate staff here at Hogwarts, by which former-Professor Trelawney is the very definition. She _will_ leave by my order."

The massive doors leading to the grounds blew open, carrying with them mist from the cold night outside. In their frame, silhouetted in the moonlight, strode in Professor Dumbledore; purple robes, intimidating stature, and all. The entire hall fell into absolute silence.

"That, Professor Umbridge," he announced, "is where, I am afraid, _you_ are mistaken."

Umbridge remained unfazed, though Harry could see a slight tremor of rage in her puffy cheeks. "Professor Trelawny has been _dismissed_ ," she repeated.

"And I intend to comply with the Ministry's wishes," Dumbledore replied happily. "However, since matters of residency fall to the discretion of the Headmaster, Sibyll may remain at Hogwarts so long as I wish it, which I very much do."

Every head whirled back to Umbridge, watching for her rebuttal. The corners of her mouth twitched as she processed his words. "Her _replacement_ will have no adequate lodgings if she refuses to leave."

They all snapped back to Dumbledore. "On the contrary, Sibyll's current residence in the North Tower will not be required. The new Divination professor will prefer quarters on the ground floor."

Again to Umbridge, who looked as though she were trying to swallow a lemon. " _New Divination professor_?" she seethed.

Back to Dumbledore. "Ah yes, forgive me. It seems, given such short notice, I've neglected to inform you of my success. Well, as they say, no time like the present." He stepped aside and waved an arm back at the doorway to the grounds with a polite bow. "Allow me to introduce you to Firenze."

Gasps burst out in waves as, cantering into the Great Hall, a centaur appeared before them. It was a surprise which, considering they'd hosted _dragons_ only months previously, really shouldn't have been that surprising.

Firenze came to a stop beside Dumbledore and tipped his head forward. "Greetings," he intoned flatly.

How Umbridge's eyes managed to bulge so grotesquely without completely escaping their sockets was a mystery to Harry, thankfully one which didn't detract in the least from his amusement. Her fake little smile was a foreign memory, and she instead measured the creature with a look of complete, icy indifference. Without a word, she passed over Dumbledore one last time and turned on her heel, striding back up the Grand Staircase to her office.

The scene couldn't have been more satisfying, and it almost felt as though Harry were reliving it all a second time when he described it for Ron in the Gryffindor common room later that night.

"So Dumbledore moves out of the way and in walks a _centaur_ , the same one we met in our first year! You had to see it, Ron, the look on Umbridge's face was brilliant," Harry laughed, though Ron merely grumbled and continued to stare blankly at his astronomy essay. Harry sat up, surprised by his apathy, and asked, "So, how did practice go?"

Ron's quill paused in the middle of scratching some doodle in the corner of his paper. "Same," he mumbled a few seconds later. "Can't catch a bloody thing, and Johnson's been ready to quit since the Hufflepuff game."

Harry's gut tightened. He'd completely forgotten about their game the previous week, which was particularly annoying since it was anything but easy to forget. The Gryffindor team had only lost by ten points, which was entirely due to Ginny miraculously catching the Snitch in a mere twenty minutes. Ron and the others, however, had still managed to put on quite the performance with the time available, filling every second with flailing limbs and tumbling brooms. It was so bad that even Fred and George couldn't find the heart to mention it in front of Ron, which was as bad a sign for Harry as any.

"Listen, don't worry about it," Harry tried to recover. "We've still got a shot at the cup, and you can only get better from here out, right?" Ron didn't even bother to respond. "C'mon, Ron, you can't let it get to you. Just...just forget about it until we get through our O.W.L.s and you'll be fine."

Ron threw his quill down and crossed his arms. "It's not just that," he huffed, glaring across the room.

"Then what..." Harry followed his gaze and saw Hermione and John seated across the room at a table by the windows, heads close together as they huddled in private conversation. Hermione repeatedly whispered small snippets to John, who then either nodded or shook his head and scribbled out some message on paper for her. Ever since the journal incident, the two of them had been inseparable, their secluded discussions becoming almost ritual, though Harry had given them little thought until now.

"You don't mean..." Harry asked, jerking his thumb in their direction. Ron slid further into the cushions of his armchair, avoiding his stare. " _Please_ tell me you're joking."

Ron dumped his materials into his bag and rose out of his seat. "I'm going to bed."

Harry grabbed the sleeve of his robes and yanked him back into his chair. "Ron, you're my best mate, but you're acting like a git," he snapped. The effort made his head throb and he reached up to rub the ache, remembering just how painful his lesson with Snape had been that evening. "This is just like last year. Keep this up and you're only going to make things worse."

"Doesn't sound so bad," he griped back, still fighting Harry's grip and trying to shoulder his bag.

"What's got you two going?" Harry jumped back as Hermione appeared beside them, sparing curious looks for them both. Beside her, John stared off into space, apparently deep in thought with a hand on his chin.

"Took time out of your busy schedule to check up on us, did you?" Ron sneered from his chair. Harry slapped his forehead as Hermione gaped at the ginger.

"What he means," Harry interjected, "is he's having trouble with his essay and wanted to know if you could help him with it, right Ron?"

"Good to see you're as charming as ever," Hermione reprimanded Ron dryly, who glowered back at Harry in defiance.

" _Oi_ , I never..."

"Glad that's settled," Harry concluded. The throbbing in his scar was pounding even stronger and his bag was growing heavier by the second. "It's been a rough night, I'm gonna head up early while you two...figure this out."

Both of them fumbled for words as he turned away and hurried through the door toward his dorm. Climbing upwards, Ron's affronted voice echoed back up the staircase, " _Apologize? Not bloody likely!_ "

By the time he'd stepped into his pajamas and slipped under the covers of his bed, Harry's head felt like a cinder block. Practicing Snape's calming exercises was the farthest thing from his mind, and soon enough he was drifting through aimless, fogged scenery. Objects and surroundings occasionally came into focus before melting away again, and some part of Harry's mind watched classrooms float by, walked through misted forests, flew above green fields on his Firebolt...

His world tumbled in one direction and solidified. The blurry sights faded to nothing and Harry found himself standing in a black room with scarce lighting. At his feet, on top of an old frayed rug, knelt a cowering man with his head bowed low. He shrunk down even further as Harry's whisper of a voice asked dangerously, "You are certain of this, Rookwood?"

The man shuddered, "Y-Yes, my Lord. There is n-no question...I used to w-work there, after all." Shaking, he craned his neck until the terror in his eyes was just visible to Harry. "None can retrieve it but a Seen, my Lord."

Harry took a step forward, and the man jerked back down. "If what you say is true," Harry's voice intoned calmly, "then Avery gave me poor advice, and these months of planning have been for nothing." Harry's hand raised up, white as bone with a pale wand to match.

The man's shallow breathing turned to strangled gasps. The tension stretched and froze the air while trembling rocked his limbs. "Please...my Lord...I _beg_ you..."

Harry's wrist flicked the wand out, and the door across the room creaked open. "You have done well to bring this to me, Rookwood. You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude." The man's shaking breaths hitched and his shoulders sagged with relief. "Go now, and before you leave," he added slowly, "bring me Avery."

"At once, my Lord. T-Thank you." The man stifled his quivering and swept from the room in a blur. The door snapped shut and Harry was once again shrouded in darkness, though not yet entirely alone.

"What now?"

He turned to the pitch black corner of the room, where an aged woman with black robes and an exotic headdress leaned in the shadows. Harry felt a flash of anger pulse through him. "What word from your sources at the castle?"

In the dark, a dull, almost unnoticeable red glow filled the woman's eyes as she grinned maliciously. "The boy is still there."

Harry drifted away to the wall behind him. "Then we will proceed with a new plan," he answered, catching his reflection in a spotted, worn mirror. His skin was thin and pale and his eyes blood red with terrible black slits...

Something smacked firmly against his cheek, and Harry froze. Blinking frantically, he found himself tangled in a mess of sheets, breathing and sweating as heavily as though he'd run a marathon. His hand touched the tender part of his face while he reached for his glasses and tried to focus on the person gripping the front of his shirt.

"You don't have beat the snot out of him," Ron sneered off to the side. John gave him a sideways leer and relaxed his hold on Harry, flashing him a worried look and a questioning thumbs up. The signal wasn't difficult to interpret.

"Er...yeah, I'm fine," Harry lied, still heaving and tearing his limbs from the bundled fabrics. He desperately wanted to talk with Ron about what he'd seen, _who_ he'd seen, but not while John was around. After just apparently having a second fit in front of the mute, it wouldn't exactly take much more to convince him of his own insanity.

"You're sure, Harry?" Ron beckoned, searching him intently. "Was it...you know..."

"I said I'm fine, Ron, really," Harry insisted, signaling to John with a flick of his eyes. Ron pressed his mouth shut and returned a reluctant nod, shuffling back to his own bed. John watched their interaction with plain interest and uncertainty before shrugging and following suit, his earlier look of deep contemplation returned. Footsteps plodded up the staircase outside and the rest of the other fifth-years filtered into the room, joining them for the night.

More exhausted than when he'd first fallen asleep, Harry straightened his sheets and threw his head back down on his pillow. Yet despite his fatigue, sleep evaded him as shades from his vision crept in the darkness behind his eyelids. He flinched from the pale white hands reaching out from the edges, and rolled away from the faint crimson eyes staring in the distance. His scar still prickled, and no matter how much he shifted and twitched, jerked and cringed, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone, somewhere, was writhing on the floor of a cold, dark room.

* * *

"Poor Professor Trelawney, she hasn't left her tower since last night," Parvati despaired.

"I could hear her crying from the fifth floor corridor," Lavender admitted, putting a comforting hand on Parvati's shoulder. "I still can't believe Umbridge was that awful to her in front everyone."

"Well she's not exactly a cheery little saint," Harry derided, fighting the itch on the back of his hand. Their shared annoyance was overshadowed as Ron skulked around the corner and sourly took his place next to him on the wall outside their new Divination classroom. "About time you showed up," Harry whispered. "Where've you been all morning?"

Ron answered by glowering at the floor, so Harry pulled him roughly aside and away from the rest of their waiting classmates. "Listen I need to talk you about what I saw last night, in that dream." This time, Ron stood up straighter and watched Harry with rapt attention, nodding for him to continue. Harry shut his eyes, trying to remember every detail, and began, "So it started in this weird room, and..."

"We'll talk then...hey, Harry!" Hermione appeared beside them, with John walking past the group of students and confidently entering the foreboding classroom. A fresh round of whispers stirred up in his wake. Raising a brow at Ron's directed scowl, she hissed in Harry's ear, "You had another of your visions? What was it, what did you see?"

"Perfect, I was just about to tell...hey," Harry squinted at her. "How did you know I had another dream?"

"Ja-...er, John told me, of course. He said you'd had another fit last night," she waved dismissively.

"And what else did the mouthy little creep tell you about us, hm? The color of our knickers?" Ron sneered, glaring at the slightly ajar classroom door that everyone was still too apprehensive to enter.

Hermione's cheeks blazed red. "You're being absolutely _foul_ , Ron! A complete child!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Harry ordered. "No one's doing anything if you two keep arguing, and you've still got your own class to head off to, Hermione, so do either of you want to hear about the dream or not?" Each staunchly avoided the other's gaze and waited in silence for him to continue.

Harry nodded. "Good, because honestly I'll go mental if I don't tell someone about it." His hand cradled his forehead as he closed his eyes and tried to recall the scene. "It started with this really dark room. I could barely see anything, and this Death Eater Rookwood was on the floor..."

* * *

_Demons made to look of man...Keepers of most tainted treasures...Masters of death by foulest magic...Slay them and their traitor King..._

Something just didn't add up.

The first bit was obvious, if insulting. And the second part, well, that could just be the usual stereotype about dragons having hordes of gold and that kind of stuff. Which, when Jake thought about it, it _would_ be pretty sick to have, but that was beside the point. As for the last part, well, he couldn't ever remember there being a King of Dragons. As far as he knew, the Dragon Council had always been their leading body.

In comparison, none of it was nearly as worrying as the third part of the warrant. He could try to interpret it as creatively as he wanted, but there was no denying what it sounded like...

 _Necromancy_?

No way. The Dragons of Draco Isle could cook up some crazy awesome magic, but never anything like raising the dead. The Huntsclan might have tried it with a life-giving Egyptian Scarab, sure, and the Aztec Skulls may have been able to pull off some kind of resurrection if someone had made the right wish, but not once had Jake ever seen or heard of the World Dragons dabbling in anything _that_ messed up.

And he'd seen _a lot_.

Yet when it came to wizards, death-defying magic was practically a standard. Skeleton slaves, zombie armies, evil rituals in freakin' cemeteries? All wizards, not one dragon involved. To think they had the nerve to hypocritically persecute his ancestors for something so ridiculous made Jake's blood boil in his veins, no doubt a rage that would have thrown him into his own dragon skin were it not for the collar around his neck. Suddenly, Stout's distrust of the wizarding community seemed much more deserved.

Possibly the only positive thing to come from their confounding discovery was that Hermione at least had some other source to channel her curiosity into, a blessing that multiplied when Potter had _another_ seizure-thing the previous night.

"This was supposed to have stopped," Hermione lamented to him as they walked down dull, stone halls that afternoon. "Snape's Occlumency lessons should be helping Harry protect himself, but if anything these dreams are happening more often."

 _Great, so he's getting close to going full-on psycho._ Jake tapped Hermione on the shoulder and waited until she'd pulled out of her own thoughts to point at his own head feverishly.

"You're thinking of something?" she guessed. Jake shook his head and swirled his finger in a circle by his temple, crossing his eyes for good measure. Hermione rolled her own and answered, "Harry's not _crazy_ , he can't help it when he gets those dreams. From what we've seen, they usually happen when Voldemort does something important, something personal to him..." She gripped her shoulder bag tighter as they turned the corner, a crowd of students visible down the hall.

"Harry didn't say what the dream was about, did he?" she asked. Jake shook his head, watching carefully as she added with relief, "Well, at least there's that much."

 _And now you're back to making absolutely no sense._ She must have read his lost expression as she explained, "If it was something really awful, or another attack, he would have told someone by now. Still, for him to have seen _anything_..." A few heads had begun to turn at their approach, and she stood straighter with firm determination. "Meet me in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom after dinner, before we have our DA meeting. It ought to be private enough, we'll talk then."

Hermione broke away and waved down Harry where Ron slouched beside him, staring daggers at Jake. _What is Weasley's damage?_ Jake grimaced, turning his back to him and approaching the new Divination classroom. There wasn't much time until class began, yet everyone who'd already arrived stood loitering in front of the door, engulfed in whispered conversations. _Yeah, let's just all stand by the door, that's an_ awesome _place to chill and get in the way_ , Jake griped as he plowed through the crowd, shoved into the room, and closed the door behind him.

For a second, Jake almost thought someone had pulled some weird prank on him as he found himself standing in a lush meadow of grass. Inside the classroom, a peaceful glade spread over what should have been stone floors. Trees stretched upward with their branches scattered along the ceiling, and soft sunlight that had no business being indoors poured over bushes and brambles from seemingly nowhere.

_What the..._

Soft footfalls brushed through the grass, and Jake turned to see a centaur with a hoof-shaped bruise across his chest approaching through the grove.

"I wondered if we would meet again, American Dragon," Firenze greeted him.

 _Aw man._ Jake nearly tripped over a stump in his haste to reach the centaur, digging out an old crumpled note and waving for him to be silent. Firenze watched quietly and took the paper without comment, lifting it up to the light as though inspecting it for authenticity while he read it. Jake checked the classroom door over his shoulder, but thankfully the other students had yet to follow his example and the room remained empty but for the two of them.

"I understand," Firenze replied, handing the paper back down to Jake. "My apologies, I had forgotten your mentioning to Magorian that you were here in secret."

The centaur twitched compulsively when he mentioned Magorian's name. That and the strange bruise on the centaur's chest were pretty obvious signals to Jake that something was wrong. With Firenze's attention, he pointed at the horseshoe mark, then next at the ground beneath them, and shrugged his shoulders uncertainly. Firenze looked distant as he guessed, "You wonder why I am here?" Jake nodded in affirmation, and Firenze explained, "Dumbledore asked me to become a professor for his students, and I agreed. Magorian and my herd saw this as a betrayal and banished me."

 _Yeah, I kinda know what that feels like_. Setting aside his pity, Jake dropped his bag and dug out some spare paper and a quill. After scribbling on one face " _So you were there in the Forbidden Forest?"_ he handed the message to the centaur. Firenze took the slip and scanned the words before answering placidly, "Yes, I was with the rest of my herd when we found you."

Jake's gut twisted. _He was there...then maybe..._

The rumble from the students talking outside grew louder as Jake hurriedly wrote out another note and held it out to Firenze. The centaur considered the words for a while, abnormally solemn even by his own standards. When he did return his even gaze back to Jake, it was with a gravity of shame. "Not I personally," he admitted, "...but yes."

It felt like Jake had been punched in the gut. _Aw man..._

"Oh _wow_...Lavender, come look!" Leaves rustled behind Jake as students began wandering into the room at last, marveling at their abnormally natural surroundings. He retrieved his note from Firenze with a nod, reminding the centaur of his disguise with a finger over his lips. Firenze bowed his head in understanding, and Jake claimed a stump for his own while students continued to funnel into the room.

Jake's heart was racing. His attention was only partly given to Firenze's lesson on predicting the future through stars and campfire smoke, and even less was devoted to Umbridge's assignment later in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The whole period, he nervously glanced at Hermione, who only shook her head when she noticed and tapped her watch. Before he knew it, dinner had ended and he was waiting alone in Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom, tapping his fingers impatiently against the porcelain sink. _C'mon, c'mon, where are you?_

The bathroom door eased open behind him, and Hermione's cautious voice called out, "Jake? Are you in he- _oh_!"

"Get in!" Jake yanked her inside, stuck his head out in the hallway to check for any eavesdroppers, and threw his back against the door with a loud _slam_. "Took you long enough!" he whispered. Hermione was about to make a comment when he cut her off. "Forget it, there's no time."

"Fine, but listen Jake..." she started as Jake joined in.

"I have to tell you something!" they said in unison.

Hermione blinked in surprise and shrugged, "Alright, you first."

"The new centaur dude, Firenze," Jake tried to say in a jumble. "He knows who I am, who I _really_ am, and he was there when I went into the Forbidden Forest. You know, when you came after me?"

"It's kind of hard to forget, with the giant and all," she affirmed.

"Well the reason I went out there in the first place was because I was in detention with Umbridge and I thought I saw the Dark Dingus's shade demons through her window. But when I was looking around, I found the centaurs. Their leader, Magorian, said they hadn't seen horn or tail of the big guy or anyone else."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" Hermione asked.

Jake shook his head slowly. "Firenze was there too. I talked to him before Divination started, and homeboy let me in on a little secret: the shade demons have been chilling in the forest for _months_. Magorian lied."

Hermione's eyes sparked with understanding. "It must be the centaurs, then!"

"Um, say what now?" Jake asked perplexed.

Hermione started to pace around like she did whenever she was solving some difficult puzzle. "What Harry saw in his vision last night! Voldemort was talking with one of his Death Eaters about having to 'change plans' or something. Most of what they said was pretty vague, so we aren't sure exactly what they were talking about, but there was a woman there, too. The same one from the attack at the Ministry!"

" _Chang_ ," Jake seethed.

"Harry still doesn't know who she is, but it must be her," Hermione agreed. "At one point, Voldemort asked Chang about her 'source' for information on Harry. If the centaurs lied about those shade demons, it's probably because they're the ones working with the Dark Dragon!"

It was yet another blow, and Jake felt weak. He sat against the wall and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything. "Just...hold up a sec," he moaned, cradling his head.

Taking a place next to him, Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Jake?"

A mirthless laugh escaped from him. "No, Hermione, I'm not, I mean come on! Wars with dragons over 'foul magic'? Harry having his creepy dreams? Chang plotting it up with your skull-faced freak? And now even magical creatures are turning against us!" Jake climbed to his feet and leaned against a sink on the opposite side of the room, staring intently into the cracked mirror. "Everything's so messed up...and I don't have a clue what to do about it..."

"Well I do." Hermione joined him at the mirrors, brimming with confidence. "It's like I've been saying all along, Jake. _You need help_. What about the other dragons..."

" _NO."_ Jake hadn't intended to yell, and he tried to recover from Hermione's shock. "I'm sorry, but I can't...not them..."

Hermione rebounded and pressed forward, "What about your Replitome? Just tell Stout what we've figured out and see what he thinks."

Well, it was certainly a better alternative, but it still didn't feel like enough. "It might be too late for that," he lamented, a thought occurring to him. "But you're right, Hermione. I've gotta tell someone before things get even worse." Pushing away from the sinks, he looked down at Hermione's watch and started toward the hallway door. "The DA's gonna start soon. You go ahead, I'll meet you there."

Hermione hurried after him. "Wait, where are you going?"

Jake dug into his pocket and pulled out his itchy necklace, smirking back at Hermione, "The Am-Drag's gonna take the scenic route. I've got a little bone to pick with the Headmaster."

Despite her plain discomfort, Hermione nodded and waved him off as he headed into the corridor. Jake threw the training collar on and began climbing staircases in what he thought, but mostly hoped, was the right direction. As he walked, his mind reeled with the misgivings he still held for the old wizard. _He didn't tell you about the weapon Potter keeps talking about, but right now he's your best shot at getting some answers. If anyone knows what's going on with big, dark, and ugly and his little brain trust, it's Dumbledore._

It took a few wrong turns and some retracing of his steps, but eventually Jake came to the huge stone gargoyle that marked the base of the staircase he needed. Yet as close as he was to his goal, Jake couldn't figure out how to get the stupid thing to budge. He tried shoving it, but the massive brute just shoved Jake away like a plaything. He tried kicking it, clapping, but nothing seemed to appease the construct. It was then that Jake recalled his initial visit with Professor McGonagall, and he remembered that she'd gained entrance with a password.

Which led to his second problem, because Jake could not for the life of him remember what she'd said. _Maybe if I just start trying out things that sound right, I'll figure it out_ , he reasoned, reaching a hand up toward his neck and beginning to take off his collar.

"I always knew he would be trouble, let there be no mistake about that!" a wheezy voice echoed out behind him. Jake whirled around and, seeing no one in the hallway behind him yet, instinctively ducked through the nearest door that wasn't guarded by an imposing statue. The classroom beyond was deserted, and Jake knelt by the doorway, peering back at the gargoyle statue through the sliver left between the door and its jam. The voices echoing in the corridor were steadily growing louder.

"And right you were, Prime Minister, right you were." Even without the owner in view, Jake knew that sweet little girlish voice all too well. Soon enough, a small procession appeared and came to a halt in front of the gargoyle. In the group, Umbridge stood beside a plump man in fine clothing and what looked like a bawling Ravenclaw girl with four other wizards just behind them.

"Lemon Sherbet," Umbridge announced, and the statue politely hobbled aside for the entourage to pass. One by one, they clambered onto the rotating staircase and slid upwards towards Dumbledore's office. Just as the last of them stepped up and the gargoyle began to cover the passage once more, Umbridge's voice echoed out in ravenous victory, her words covering Jake in a cold sweat.

"Once I've gathered the students of my Inquisitorial Squad, Prime Minister, we'll head straight to their meeting room. Potter and the others will have nowhere to run!"


	27. Hanging by a Thread

The silence in the room was broken only by rattled breathes and nervous shuffling. It was a particularly unique moment, for never before had the DA been engulfed in such a perfect storm of tension and excitement.

"Alright, does everyone remember the incantation?" Rows of heads nodded back at him. "And you've all got your happiest memories clear in your mind?" The students' faces bobbed in affirmation, but their shaking wands gave away their apprehension.

Harry knew it would do no good to wait. "Okay, all together now. One... _two_..."

His count of 'three' was indistinguishable beneath the swell of voices.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Bursts of light filled the room, no two being quite the same. Hermione already had a tumbling silver creature floating around her, as did a couple of others. Some had only shapeless vapors and wisps flailing out. Then too a few, like Neville, produced nothing. None of them, however, grew discouraged, and before Harry could provide any advice or feedback the room had become a din of chanting students. Part of Harry wanted to remind the successful members not to get too comfortable, considering the spell would be much more difficult when they were under the pressure of real danger, but his pessimism waned as he watched Cho laugh at her dancing swan and Ron gape at the terrier skipping past his ankles.

"They are quite beautiful," Luna commented airily, gazing at the rabbit sprinting from wall to wall.

"Sure, if you can actually manage to _make_ something," Fred called out across from her, tufts of vapors spouting from his wand.

"Maybe your Patronus is a cloud, or a particularly fuzzy gerbil?" George offered. His own Patronus vanished in a puff of smoke as Fred thumped him on the head.

Harry was still taking it all in when it dawned that they weren't in full attendance. "Hey Hermione, do you know where John is? It's not like him to miss a meeting."

Her Patronus whirled in a circle around her head before fading away, leaving a halo of silver strands in its place. "John? Yes, he said he...had something to take care of! I expect he'll be here any moment," she answered to the ceiling.

"Right then," he accepted, looking back around the room. "What about Marietta? Cho, do you..."

Heads turned as thunderous pounding battered the classroom door. The wood creaked as something on the other side tugged against the door and tried to force it open. "Who locked the bloody door? Someone get that!" Ron yelled over the ceaseless banging.

"I've got it!" Neville shouted.

His curiosity piqued, Harry pulled a thick lump of parchment from his robe pocket and unfolded it. He turned away from the others and tapped his wand against the paper, whispering, " _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_."

Ink blossomed from the center and spread out in all directions, revealing the diagrams and schematics of the Marauder's Map. On the seventh floor, standing in the corridor just outside where the Room of Requirement would be, he found a single dot with an unfamiliar name hanging above it.

" _Jacob Long_...who's...?"

Neville slid the heavy metal latch aside. The doors to the room flew open and John sprinted in, red-faced and panic stricken. Gasping for breath, he limply waved his arms toward the corridor outside, but the others only watched uncertainly as Hermione hurried forward to his side. Harry did a double take between the tired boy and the corridor on the map, which was now completely empty.

"John? What is it, what's wrong?" Hermione asked. The mute slung is harm over her shoulder for support - Ron grunted off to the side with disgust - and searched the room until he found Harry. He raised an exhausted hand and pointed directly at him.

Whispers ran through the room.

"Me?" Harry asked, and John nodded, repeatedly jabbing his finger at him. "What about me?" Harry prodded, stepping closer to him and fighting the sinking feeling in his stomach.

John slapped a hand against his forehead. He jabbed his finger toward the gaping door, mimed a little person walking with two of his fingers, and pointed at the floor below them.

Harry could feel his hands starting to tremble. "Someone's coming?" Hermione guessed for him.

John nodded furiously, trying to pull Harry towards the door by the scruff of his robes. "Hang on," Harry stopped him, shoving his hand away, "Who is it, who's coming?"

He knew the answer the moment John looked back at him with fevered urgency. John lifted his other arm away from Hermione and clamped his hands together over his head, repeatedly smashing them over his green tipped hair until the room was filled with alarmed gasps.

Harry looked around, shriveling beneath their expectant stares. "WELL DON'T JUST STAND THERE! _RUN!_ "

Bodies hurtled toward the open door. A wall formed as they tried to push past one another to safety, but after a moment the dam broke loose and they all rushed out in a mad dash. Harry kept to the back, waiting to lead the end of their riot and constantly checking the Marauder's Map. A group of dots with Umbridge's name in the center was rapidly climbing the stairs, and they were already at the fifth floor.

John's fingers closed around the front of his shirt again and dragged him toward the exit. The two of them were the last through the door frame, and Harry could only see a few people still streaking away down the halls. John tore down the corridor away from the staircase, and, lacking a better alternative, Harry pelted after him.

"The library!" he shouted ahead. John was almost at the turn in the hall with Harry only a few steps behind. "It's not past curfew yet! Wait there unt-gaaAAAH!"

His legs had gone numb, but pain still shot through his arms as he collapsed and slid to a halt on the rough stone floor. Pounding footsteps were already echoing down the hall by the time he'd manage to prop himself up on his arms. John was suddenly at his side with an arm slung beneath his shoulder, trying in vain to lift him off the ground.

"What are you doing? Go! Get out of here!" Harry ordered, the steps of their pursuers growing louder. John continued struggling and managed to drag him a few feet around the corner before someone appeared just behind them.

"They're here, Professor!" Malfoy yelled over his shoulder with his wand in hand. "I got one with a Jelly-Legs Jinx! I think it's Po-!"

There was a blur of movement from John, a snapping sound, and Malfoy's voice hitched into silence. Clutching his throat in panic, he glared at the pair of them while John kept his wand held high and fought to drag Harry to his feet. His limp legs, however, weren't cooperating in the slightest.

"Just go!" Harry demanded. "She'll be here any-!"

"There they are!" Harry's heart sank as Umbridge skidded to a stop beside Malfoy, wild with joy. "Good work, Draco! Check the room they were in and send some of the others to the bathrooms and the library. Find anyone that looks in a hurry; out of breath, missing bags and such. Quickly, now, go!" Draco nodded obediently, running off without a sound.

"And you two," she pointed a pudgy finger at the pair of them, "are coming with _me_."

Umbridge set Harry's legs right and led them back down the staircases to the gargoyle outside of Dumbledore's Office. As they slowly slid up the staircase to the heavy office door, Harry could only feel regret for the evening. The thought of crawling back to the Dursley's early was nauseating, but it was John that had him reeling. In the few months he'd had at Hogwarts, the mute had stuck his neck out more than once and saved most of the DA from capture. Now, he was being dragged to his fate right alongside Harry and would undoubtedly be sent back to his muggle home, disconnected from the magical world for good, and it would be entirely Harry's fault.

They arrived at the door with the silver griffon knocker. Umbridge paid it no mind and thrust her way into the office of whirling gizmos and shimmering trinkets. Up on his perch, Fawkes rested with his head tucked beneath his wing, and Harry's chest gave a great shudder as he found the group of people gathered below. Dumbledore sat behind his desk with a complacent smile while two large men, Professor McGonagall, Percy Weasley, and Prime Minister Fudge himself crowded in front of him. Fudge was dressed in his usual fine robes and bowler hat, his cheeks red and shaking as he pointed a trembling finger at Dumbledore.

"This has gone too far, Dumbledore! I will not tolerate..."

Umbridge threw the office door closed with a loud _SLAM_. Their audience turned to face them, and Fudge smirked with an upturned nose. "Ah, Mr. Potter!"

"I've got them, Minister!" Umbridge dragged the two boys forward by their arms. "Our information about their meeting on the 7th floor was spot on. However, the students were running away by the time we arrived. Someone must have tipped them off."

Harry's thoughts were a blur, and he looked to Dumbledore in a panic. The Headmaster didn't meet his stare, but instead focused on a point just over his shoulder. "Professor Dumbledore, I..."

"Proof! Evidence!" Fudge shouted in victory, shooting back to Dumbledore. "There's no denying now that these gatherings have been occurring right under your nose!"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore smiled, placing his fingertips together, "I think you'll find your assessment quite incorrect."

Fudge gave a great scoff of disbelief. "Oh yes, please! Do try to explain this away as well, I'm _dying_ to hear your wondrous tale! Does it involve some great beast locked in the depths of the school? Or is time travel to blame this time! No, of course it must be your Dragons and more of their nonsense!"

"Good one, sir!" Percy guffawed over a sudden choking fit from John.

Dumbledore remained unconcerned. "Those would be wondrous tales indeed. My point, however, is that you implied the existence of multiple supposed 'meetings'. I have heard of no other meetings that violated school policies."

"No previous meetings?" Umbridge asked sweetly. "Apologies, Headmaster, but have you forgotten the very first meeting we informed you about? Reliable witnesses have attested to seeing Mr. Potter and his friends gathered in the Hog's Head Inn on the day of the Hogsmeade attack!"

"Which, if my memory is correct, was two days before Education Decree Twenty Three was instated and therefore broke no regulations," he countered. The room fell silent, and Fudge's face was slowly starting to turn an even purple, not unlike a ripening plum. "That of course means tonight was the first confirmed meeting, which I cannot possibly deny having taken place. However, if Mr. Potter and Mr. Long were the only ones in attendance, then they were well within the Decree's restrictions."

"These two were not alone, Headmaster!" Umbridge snapped. "I myself witnessed at least a dozen students running in the halls, possibly more, and I'm certain my Inquisitorial Squad will attest to the same!"

Professor McGonagall loomed darkly over the pink woman, her eyes flat with cold fury. "You've proven only that the students were in the corridors before curfew, as is their right. I would also _expect_ them to be running when certain students are being given permission to openly use magic against them!"

Umbridge squinted up at her and had a pudgy finger raised when Fudge sighed with exasperation. "We'll ask our informant then! Where's the girl, Dolores?"

"Yes, of course Minister! I'll bring her in," she teetered, sauntering away and retreating through a side passage. Harry found himself staring at Dumbledore following her departure, astonished that they had yet to be forcibly removed from the castle. Yet even now the wizard studied a ceiling over Harry's head with twiddling fingers, avoiding his gaze entirely. No one said a word until Umbridge briskly returned a few moments later, guiding a Ravenclaw Girl in front of her. Harry's stomach did an uneasy turn.

"Here she is, Prime Minister. This is Marietta Edgecombe." A surge of anger washed over Harry as he looked over the traitor that Cho had vouched for. Marietta had her robes pulled up to cover her face and kept her eyes on the floor, her hair covering what her clothing couldn't in a mess of brown curls. "She is the one who warned me about Mr. Potter's meeting tonight. Her mother Madam Edgecombe works in the Department of Magical Transportation and has been helping us monitor the school's fireplaces."

"Splendid, splendid," the Minister applauded, drawing closer to the girl. "I will be sure to tell her of your good work. Come here, dear, come closer. Why are you covering your face like th- _sweet stinksap!_ "

Marietta cowered away and pulled her robes farther up. For a moment, Fudge had eased her arms down enough for them all to see her disfigurement, a mass of furious pimples that formed orderly lines across her face to spell " _SNEAK_ ". In that moment, Harry found a new respect for Hermione's spellwork.

"It's alright dear, I'm sure the affliction is only temporary. We'll get you back to Madam Pomfrey as soon as we're finished!" Umbridge tried to soothe the girl over her cries. She looked back up to the minister and continued more loudly, "Ms. Edgecombe here came to my office earlier this evening and informed me about something I'd like to see tonight in the 7th floor corridor. After I questioned her, she mentioned that there was to be a meeting, at which point this," she gestured to Marietta, who cried even louder, "took effect."

"Good gracious," Fudge muttered, pulling a lavender handkerchief from his robes and dabbing at his forehead. "Well, my dear, we'll only ask you a few questions and..." Marietta shook her head furiously, her muffled whimpers just barely audible through her clothing.

"You won't have to speak, dear!" Umbridge encouraged her. "Nodding for 'yes' and shaking for 'no' will do!"

"I thought you preferred a more _proper_ method, Dolores," Professor McGonagall quipped. John through his hands in the air in vexed agreement.

Umbridge ignored them both. "Alright dear, would you kindly tell us if this was the first of these meetings? Quickly, yes or no!"

Marietta slowly looked up to Umbridge and Harry grew numb with dread until an unusual sensation passed by him. He thought he saw the tall, dark man beside Fudge twitch and soon after a quick breeze brushed his legs, as though a small dog or rodent had just whisked by. Marietta paused in her movement and stared blankly until Umbridge pried, "Come now, dear, a nod or shake will do. Was this the first-?"

Marietta nodded. Umbridge blinked a few times and asked again. "You're saying there have been no other meetings, then?" Marietta shook her head. "But my dear, did you not tell me earlier that these meetings have been going on for several - _why are you shaking your head?_ "

"I think her meaning is quite clear, unless she's devised some new method of sign language," McGonagall commented dryly.

Umbridge shot her a scathing look before turning back to Marietta. "Tonight, were there going to be more than three students attending including Mr. Potter and Mr. Long?" Marietta shook her head, and Umbridge began to turn red. "Including yourself, that would make three! You're certain there was to be no one else, not a _single_ person?" Marietta nodded.

Umbridge bit down her fury like a burning kettle, and Harry almost thought he could hear whistling from her ears. "She's _lying_ ," Umbridge hissed, spittle flying as she turned back to Fudge. "She said nothing of the sort in my office earlier, Minister, I assure you!"

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore interjected, standing from behind his desk, "I find it difficult to consider such serious accusations on the word of a single student, especially when said student later denies the claims. Should you have any founded concerns in the future, Professor Umbridge, I of course implore you to bring them to my attention." He motioned to the office door and bowed generously. "As always, it has been a pleasure Prime Minister."

Harry's head was swimming. He was beginning to hope that their doom had been miraculously avoided when the office door swung open once again, revealing Millicent Bulstrode holding a familiar piece of parchment. "Professor Umbridge! I found something for you in their room!"

Umbridge held out her hand for the paper and glanced it over. In seconds, her toadlike face spread with a wide grin. "Very good! Fifty points for Slytherin! You may go, Ms. Bulstrode." Millicent nodded and closed the door behind her.

"Prime Minister, Ms. Bulstrode has just delivered to me a most fascinating piece of evidence!" Harry caught a glimpse of the paper, and his stomach plummeted as he recognized the charter. Umbridge dictated aloud, "I believe this to be a list of all of the individuals belonging to Mr. Potter's group, clear proof that..."

She stopped midstep, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. "Yes, yes, what is it Dolores?" Fudge beckoned impatiently, stepping beside her and following her awestruck gaze. His mouth fell agape and his hands began to tremble as he snatched the parchment away, waving it up towards Dumbledore. "What is the meaning of this?"

Fudge slammed the paper down on Dumbledore's desk. The Headmaster drew it closer and examined it through his half-moon spectacles, slowly reading aloud, "Dumbledore's Army."

He looked up at them all and smiled. "Well, you've got me."

Eerie silence filled the room. "What?" Fudge stammered.

"It says 'Dumbledore's Army'," he answered simply. "Not 'Potter's'."

Fudge's jowels sagged as he gaped at Dumbledore. "You mean...?"

"As you suspected," Dumbledore nodded.

"No! Professor, don't-!" Harry yelled.

"Quiet, boy!" Fudge ordered. McGonagall gave him a furious look, and John grabbed his shoulder. He shook his head in warning, looking every bit as terrified as Harry felt.

Fudge turned on Dumbledore with a dirty scowl. "You were recruiting an army!"

Dumbledore folded his hands into his sleeves. "Precisely. I instructed Harry to gather prospective students, and tonight was to be our first meeting. I realize now that he was mistaken to invite Ms. Edgecombe." He nodded to the girl, as pleasant as ever. "So, now that my plot is thoroughly unfolded, which will it be?

Fudge looked dumbly between the two men beside him. "What do you mean? What are you talking about Dumbledore?"

"Well, from my point of view this will play out in one of two ways," he shrugged. "One involves you resisting me, and the other does not. One ends well for you, and the other, quite simply, does not." He leaned forward toward Fudge. "So, which will it be?"

Umbridge, Percy, Fudge, and the two men all exchanged urgent looks. Sweating more profusely, Fudge took a cautious step forward and reached for his wand.

The room became a blur. Professor McGonagall launched herself in Harry's direction while John came from the other side, both of them reaching him just as Dumbledore pulled his wand from his sleeve in a flash and an almighty burst shook the office. Silver light filled Harry's vision, and he could hear nothing but shrill ringing as they all crashed to the floor.

He tried to stand, but Professor McGonagall and John kept him pinned to the ground alongside Marietta. Dust obscured the room, and Harry could only make out another couple bursts of light and muffled thuds shaking the floor. A moment of silence passed before everything stilled and the air began to clear. Through the murky din, Harry could see Fudge and the others unconscious on the floor and Dumbledore striding toward them intently.

"Thank you, Minerva, and kindly extend my thanks to Kingsley as well. He was remarkably quick on the uptake with his Memory Charm on Ms. Edgecombe. It was unfortunate that I had to curse him as well, but he will be safer for it." He helped Professor McGonagall to her feet, glancing around at the incapacitated wizards and shaken students. "They will come to soon, I don't have much time. Watch over the students while I'm gone."

Jonathan looked like he was trying to find something to write on when Dumbledore firmly grabbed his shoulders. "Remember your purpose here, Jonathan, and should you need anything, know that Professor McGonagall is even more trustworthy than myself."

He turned away from the gawking mute and fixed lastly on Harry. "You must continue your lessons with Professor Snape, Harry. Learning Occlumency is _essential_ , nothing is more important. Do you understand?"

Harry finally met his piercing blue eyes, and a surge of rage erupted deep in the back of his mind. It was the same urge from his vision of Mr. Weasley, the urge to strike, to maim, to squeeze the life out of the man before him. Fighting the sensation, he stuttered, "Yeah, alright."

Dumbledore nodded and whirled around, kicking up a swirl of dust. His attackers were beginning to stir and Fudge was scowling at him in unfocused fury, drunkenly clambering to his feet. "Stop... _Dumbledore_..."

Dumbledore raised both of his arms as Fawkes flew down from his perch, and his hands met the creature with a thunderous clap. The Headmaster and his phoenix were engulfed in a plume of fire that immediately collapsed into a single, tiny ember, leaving behind only the smallest of scorch marks on the woven rug below.

They all stood around the spot, perplexed and utterly dumbstruck. Fudge, specked with dirt and gleaming with sweat, looked like his wobbling knees were about to give out. "But...how?"

The tall, dark wizard put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, Minister. When it comes to Dumbledore, it's better not to ask questions."

* * *

Educational Decree 29. Effective immediately, Dolores Umbridge was now Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It was the only subject of discussion that Saturday morning. For once, exams and idle gossip had lost all importance as everyone moved uncertainly through the castle. Despite the newly erected posters declaring her position, many students half expected it to be some Weasley prank or Ministry ploy. When Dumbledore's seat at the Head Table remained vacant, however, even the naysayers joined in the frantic whispering. Umbridge was sickeningly pleased with herself, the other professors were emotionless as statues, and to top it all off a certain rumor had soon managed to circulate through the ears of every student.

Marietta Edgecombe, Jonathan Long, and Harry Potter were in the headmaster's office with Umbridge and the Minister of Magic when Dumbledore made a dramatic and daring escape from the law.

It was as tall a tale as they came, and it grew taller with every telling. By the time Lavender Brown and the Patil twins had come to Jake about it during lunch, it had been to ask if it was really true that Dumbledore had transfigured Umbridge into a frog, set fire to his office, and thrown Fudge through his window into the courtyard below. Something told Jake the Slytherins were behind that bit.

Yet as the story grew and shifted, only one fact failed to change, and it was the one that caused the greatest concern. Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in modern history and iconic, ostensive leader of Hogwarts, had been banished by the Ministry. Many were anxious, some were terrified, and a few were even cheering. After ruminating all night in the darkness of his dormitory, however, Jake was of a more perturbed opinion.

"That wacked out, wrinkle faced, crotchety, senile, back-stabbing, shady old nutjob," he growled, ignoring Hermione's short intake of breath.

" _Shhh!_ " she hushed him, looking ahead significantly. They had just finished lunch and were walking down the dirt path to the Quidditch pitch. Harry and Ron were headed in the same direction a ways ahead of them, Ron supporting a broomstick over his shoulder. They were out of earshot and spoke in low voices, Ron throwing the occasional spiteful glare over his shoulder.

"Jerk ditches me here and expects me to clean up his mess," Jake seethed under his breath, abandoning all caution in his rage.

Hermione crossed her arms. "You know that isn't true! Dumbledore didn't have a choice." She winced as Jake kicked a stone in their path, punting it down the rolling lawns. His jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth were aching. They walked on in silence until they arrived at the pitch, ducking below the burlap entrance curtains and finding seats in the stands far removed from the other sparse spectators.

"I should have seen it coming," Jake hissed as the players appeared below in their Quidditch gear. "Now I don't have any back up. I'm so screwed." He fell back into the low dip behind him where the feet of the next row of spectators would be and covered his face with his hands. "How could this get any _worse_."

"Well, now that you mention it..." Hermione hesitated. Jake's fingers slid down his cheeks and he watched her with exasperated, unwilling exhaustion. Strange, garbling noises from Bludgers signaled the opening of the ball chest on the field below.

"You're kidding me," he moaned. "What, another Potter-seizure? More surprise giants?"

"Neither," she confided, biting her lip. "Harry knows your real name."

It took Jake an abnormal degree of self-control to not shout in combined frustration and despair, and he settled instead for banging his head against the stands. Some force of nature was really trying its damnedest to get rid of him. "Oh come on, _how_ _?_ "

Hermione straightened up in her seat. "He has an enchanted map, you see, that shows the position and name of every..."

"An _enchanted map_ , of course _,_ " Jake laughed sardonically.

Hermione sighed. "The point is that things are still getting worse. As far as I know, Harry hasn't figured anything else out, but I think it would be best..."

"I know," Jake grumbled. He looked to the opposite end of the pitch where Harry sat beside the Weasley twins, his bag and a couple of books laid out beside him. He was bent over some essay or other with intense concentration, stooping even closer to the paper whenever Ron missed another catch in the air above. "I'll have to keep my distance from him, lay low for a while."

Hermione was pulling at the ends of her robe sleeves. "Actually, I was going to say that...I mean, after what's happened..."

"Hold up." Jake snapped upright, the meaning behind her plain discomfort beginning to sink in. "Hermione, you don't mean...?"

She nodded and dropped her eyes to the side. "I think you should leave...Hogwarts, that is."

His nagging worries were replaced with baffled confusion. Leaving? The thought felt so...wrong, so unacceptable. He fumbled for words, but when all that came out were jumbled half-noises, Jake turned away and gathered up his belongings.

"Jake, you have to!" Hermione pleaded to his back as he piled things in his bag. "Don't you remember what we found in the Restricted Section? We can't take the chance of the Ministry knowing your secret. Things have gotten too...complicated."

He was about to stand when a hand rested over his shoulder. Jake's head was still a turmoil of emotion, but he allowed himself to be turned around. Hermione's expression had softened, and she reached a hand up to the side of his head, running it over his hair. "I hate it every bit as much as you do."

The squirming in Jake's stomach was almost nauseating. His palms were sweating, and he was halfway towards lifting one to meet Hermione's hand when she jerked it away, snatching a strand of hair with it. Jake flinched and cradled the smarting spot, watching Hermione with annoyance as she inspected the green-tipped hair. "We still have so much to learn about the other Dragons, and your magic! I wish I had more time than questions, not the other way around."

The burning pressure in his chest deflated instantaneously. He shook his head and turned instead to watch one of the beaters swing wildly with his bat held upside down. "You don't get it, Hermione. I'm not going anywhere, I can't."

Ron's younger sister swooped past them to catch a pass, the rush of air flinging Hermione's hair out of her resolute expression. "It's for the best!" she insisted. "Think about the consequences if you're caught! Think about the other Dragons, about Haley, and Dominic, and-!"

"Did someone say 'Dragons'?"

Jake twisted around, and his acute worry evolved into outright terror as he found the man standing in the benches behind them. He wore a crisp suit, had a sturdy face, and flashed a smile that crinkled his face with jovial laughter lines.

" _Awww maaaan_."

"- _Mr. Stout!_ " Hermione squeaked, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Jake watched with panic as Stout quietly considered her. The air around them brimmed with tension until Hermione cleared her throat and stood with her hand extended. "I-It's a pleasure to see you again, sir! I don't know if you remember the last time we met, my name is-"

"-Hermione Granger," Stout finished smoothly. He grasped her hand with a slow, deliberate motion, and held it firmly motionless. Hermione grew a shade paler and nodded, timidly lowering her hand when Stout finally let go. "I'm pleased to see my nephew has made a friend. Admittedly, I was concerned that he would have a spot of trouble _fitting in_."

Jake's hand twitched toward the pocket bulging with his training collar, wishing he'd listened to Hermione's earlier warnings. The slight movement was enough for Stout, who perked an unimpressed eyebrow. His grin slipped away as he said evenly, "If neither of you are currently preoccupied, I think we all need to have a little chat."

He turned and began walking down his row of benches toward the exit stairs. Jake jumped up to the next tier of seats and hurried after him, leaping down to block his path. He was desperately trying to think of what to say or do to placate him when Stout gripped his shoulder in a tight pinch and leaned in toward his ear. "I think you've already demonstrated quite enough stupidity for one morning, let's not push it. I said I only wanted a chat, and that is what I meant. I promise."

Jake looked over his shoulder at Hermione, who looked torn between following the intimidating man's request and taking her chances at running in the opposite direction. Resigned to the coming storm, Jake nodded in obedience. Stout straightened and beckoned toward Hermione. "Ms. Granger, I would relish the opportunity to catch up with you and Jonathan in a more private setting."

It took her a moment to dislodge her feet and start stumbling toward them. "Yes, I...alright."

Stout resumed his stride across the stands with his hands folded behind his back, and the two of them followed. He lead them down the stairs and ducked into a side curtain that opened to what Jake thought looked kind of like his high school locker room, only the lockers were wooden, the floor was dirt, and there weren't any showers. He was fighting the urge to peak in a cabinet or two when Stout cleared his throat. The solid man leaned his back against a support beam with his arms folded and stared at Jake with no sign of emotion. The unconditional joy he normally donned was replaced with a flawless, flat indifference.

"What does she know?" he intoned coldly.

"Please, Mr. Stout," Hermione began. "Don't blame Jake, this was entirely my fault. I forced him to tell me."

He looked sideways at her and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So, everything I take it?" He took Jake's guilty silence as confirmation. "Well, so much for my record, I suppose. I really should congratulate you, Ms. Granger. You're the first witch in ten years to learn the identity of the English Dragon."

"The identity of the...?" Jake was too late to stop her sharp intake of breath. "You mean... _you_? You're...?"

"Oh that's all on you, home slice," Jake said, recoiling from Stout's renewed fury. "But she's the only one, Stout, I swear! The rest of the school is still clueless, and you don't have to worry about her! She knows how to keep a secret, right Hermione?" She nodded eagerly, but Stout's frustration held firm.

He took a deep, exaggerated breath. "You had one job, my boy," he criticized. "I sincerely believed that, after everything we discussed, you'd try to put even a minuscule amount of effort into it."

Jake barked a sarcastic laugh. " _One_ job? You might want to check your math there, Benjy. Acting the spy, finding Chang, being Dumbledore's 'Plan B', you've got me working overtime, yo! Not to mention having to put up with Umbridge and wearing this wack thing!" he argued, dragging the collar from his pocket and dangling it in front of him.

"Pardon me, Mr. Stout," Hermione interrupted. She leaned away from their combined threatening looks and noticeably struggled to keep her voice even. "I was just wondering why you're here? Not that it isn't a pleasure to see you again, but I thought that since you and Jake had your Replitomes..."

"Is _nothing_ sacred to you?" Stout snapped with fresh incredulity. Jake groaned and put a hand over his face while Stout readdressed Hermione. "To put it kindly, Ms. Granger, it doesn't do much good for one party to place a call when the other refuses to pick up the line."

Jake cringed, only now wondering how many days, maybe even weeks, had passed since he last opened his journal. Ever since his altercation with Hermione in the forest, the book had remained buried in his bag, his nagging fear of Stout discovering the security breach keeping it permanently out of reach. Rubbing the back of his neck, he preened, "I've been…busy, alright? I mean there's been exams, the Ministry, flying under the radar, I've just been slammed, that's all."

"Oh, I'm well aware of how 'busy' you've been," Stout said dryly. "First I get Fudge breathing down my neck about coercing Rita Skeeter to publish some interview-," Jake cringed again, "-and now Dumbledore's supposedly recruited students for his _personal army?_ "

"I can explain that!" Jake blurted.

"By all means," Stout shrugged, casually crossing his legs and waiting with rapt attention.

"Well I...," Jake stuttered, his tongue feeling thick and sluggish, "...I was sticking close to the others, like I was supposed to...and they had this group to practice defensive magic, but then...well this one girl Marietta, she..."

"I see," Stout nodded blankly. The way his jaw was set and his tone of bemused entertainment were unnerving, and Jake realized he was being indulged like a babbling child. He looked to Hermione for support, but found only her previous look of morose admission and knew that they had reached the same conclusion.

Accepting his defeat, Jake slouched and dug his hands in his pockets. "I screwed up."

"You could put it that way," Stout agreed.

The knot in Jake's stomach tightened further. "You're taking me home, aren't you?"

Stout guffawed, "Good heavens, of course not! In fact I came precisely to make sure you hadn't gotten cold feet!"

Jake's and Hermione's jaws dropped in unison.

"But Dumbledore's gone!" Hermione derided.

"All the more reason Jake must stay and guard the students. God knows Umbridge will be useless in that department," Stout chortled, picking lint from his coat trim.

"The other professors won't be!" Hermione retorted. "And what about the Dragons' secret? Not to mention there have been magical creatures working against Jake for months now, maybe even for the Dark Dragon himself!"

She took another step backward as Stout's head snapped up, his neck contorted with tensed muscles. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's true, dawg," Jake defended her. "The new Divination professor, Firenze, told us the centaurs were yankin' our chains about shade demons in the Forbidden Forest. Then Potter had a vision where Chang mentioned she had some kind of spy on the inside. They've gotta be in deep with the big guy too, there's no other explanation."

The passion drained from Stout's expression, leaving it as empty as before. The unnaturally fluid transformation sent chills through Jake. "It would seem that way," Stout agreed in a low, measured voice. "Their betrayal is disturbing, but it will have to be left for another time. It also changes nothing of our position."

"Hermione might have a point," Jake muttered, his insides churning. "You know me, Benjy. I'm all for bending the rules and stuff, but isn't this going too far? We all know what's at stake here. If something goes wrong-."

"Jake." Stout clasped both of Jake's shoulders and lowered himself to eye level, stern and unblinking. "I can't make you stay, and we both know you'll have to go back home eventually. If you wish to do so prematurely, I'll even take you back myself."

Jake shriveled and felt sick, twinging at the thought. Answering to the others empty handed, with nothing to justify his actions, just like before...

"But before we go, consider everything you've accomplished. The school year's nearly over, you've _marginally_ evaded detection, and Hogwarts remains perfectly safe. Not to mention that we've never been closer to finding Chang! Keep at this, and we may finally capture our greatest criminal. You don't have to go back empty handed, Jake. You could be a _hero_."

The word hung in the air like an intoxicating aroma. Stout straightened and slipped his hands away while Jake thought it over, playing the scenario out in his head; skating alongside Trixie and Spud, soaring over the bright New York skyline, Gramps clapping him on the back with pride...

Stout slid his hands into his pockets, watching Jake expectantly. "What's it going to be, chap?"

Dumbledore's parting words drifted through him once more. _Remember your purpose here_.

As far as Jake was concerned, there was only once answer. It took only seeing Hermione in the corner grimacing with unconvinced displeasure to convince him. He lifted the training collar back up, slipping it over his head to rest on his neck. Stout found his typical, cheek-wrinkling grin.

"That's the spirit, leave no job unfinished!" he cheered. "And before we leave, Ms. Granger, there is one last thing I would like to say."

He stepped toward her and tilted his head to leer down at her with a suddenly grim, severe intensity. The air in the room seemed to be growing colder by the second.

"Jake may trust you," he breathed, "but you are in _my_ domain, and I am not so easily convinced. Choose to betray the Dragons of Draco Isle, and I will gladly take appropriate measures to ensure it does not happen again. Is that understood?"

Jake could feel his own knees trembling, but Hermione maintained an astonishing degree of composure. She gave one, short nod, and reeled back onto her heels when he boomed with spontaneous laughter.

"Splendid! Then on that note I will take my leave. Madam Umbridge will likely have learned of my arrival by now, no doubt she'll be expecting a visit." Turning on his heels, he strode back to the curtained door and lifted away one of the flaps. He straightened his shoulders and adjusted his tie, his lips peeling down into a disgusted grimace. "Meeting with her is rather like peeling a scab: best to get it done with."

Hermione jumped like she'd just stuck a fork in an electrical socket. "Wait, Mr. Stout!"

He nearly tripped, managing to catch himself on the door jam. " _What?_ I...er... _ahem_ , yes, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione slipped the bag from her shoulder. She flipped through it's neatly arranged contents until she found a crisply folded rectangle of parchment. A twinge of rage flicked through Jake when he recognized it. "Can you tell us anything about this?"

Stout's eyes narrowed, but he accepted the paper and slid a pair of glasses out from his coat. "Where did you find this?" he asked in a deliberately empty tone, scanning the crude drawings and cryptic writing.

"The library," she answered immediately, stepping forward to direct his attention to specific symbols on the paper. "Jake mentioned there being a war between Dragons and wizards, so we were doing some research. I've managed to translate most of the words, but the messages don't make much sense. They warn about the Dragons using dark magic and stealing artifacts...I was hoping, maybe..."

"That I could impart some wisdom on the matter?" he guessed. Hermione nodded and waited patiently as he finished examining the document. Jake was surprised to see him develop a look of humored amusement. "Propaganda, Ms. Granger; fanciful tales invented to beguile the masses and ensnare the imaginative. One of many tactics used by witches and wizards, both now and throughout history."

Her disappointment was apparent as she reluctantly took the pamphlet back. "If you still desire some wisdom," Stout offered, pocketing his glasses, "I will give you this: don't concern yourself with it." Above them, the muffled sound of Angelina Johnson's distant, irate yelling was just audible through the stands.

Stout gave a low whistle. "Besides, I'd wager you have other matters much more worthy of your time. Now, I dare say I am late. Study well, and play nice you two." He bowed slightly and disappeared behind the curtains. From out of sight, he barked back through the walls, "And check your bloody book!"

Jake listened to his crunching footsteps fade away. Despite donning the training collar, his chest felt lighter than before and a new, invigorating warmth was spreading through his limbs.

 _It wasn't true_. The damning document they'd found had been so unsettling that Jake had _wanted_ it to be a lie, but recent events had shaken his confidence. Now, having confirmed his suspicions with Stout himself, a new surge of courage was flowing through him. He still had Stout, his Replitome, Hermione, and time. Dumbledore's safety net was gone, but Jake wasn't beaten yet. He still had a chance.

"I suppose it's good that's resolved," Hermione huffed, shoving the pamphlet back into her bag, "but I still think this is a terrible idea. I can't believe after all this, Stout still wants you to stay."

 _Someone's cranky they didn't get their way_. Jake crossed his arms and gave her a pestering look, which made her roll her eyes.

"I know, there's no point squabbling about it now." The faint sounds of some argument were growing louder as they walked toward the exit, Hermione smoothing out the folds in her robes. "We'll just have to work with what we've got, though I haven't got a clue what we can do about Umbridge."

 _Oh, I've got plenty of choice ideas_ , Jake thought as he followed her through the burlap curtains. _Invisible Soap, Hag Boil Juice, Essence of Troll, Ogre Phlegm...maybe Fred left some of his gags behind in the Den..._

Lost in his thoughts, Jake failed to notice the Gryffindor Quidditch player bumbling through the corridor ahead of him. The boy was bawling with blood smeared down his chin. He shoved his broomstick in Jake's confused hands and ran past them toward the castle grounds. The rest of the team were landing just outside the opening to the pitch in front of them, hot in pursuit with Johnson in the lead.

"Dammit Kirke! I said I was sorry, now _GET BACK HERE_!" she roared, sprinting down the tunnel with the rest of the team in tow while Jake and Hermione pressed to the side of the tunnel.

Hermione stepped out as Ron and his sister shambled by at the end. "Ginny, Ron, what happened?"

"That twit Kirke's a terrible Beater _and_ a wuss, that's what happened," Ron sneered, giving Jake his usual passing glare before stomping ahead.

Ginny stopped and shook her head. "Anthony was swinging at butterflies instead of Bludgers or something, and Johnson was already on edge. She threw a Quaffle to get his attention, it hit him in the face, he started bleeding, she yelled at him to suck it up, and _that_ _'s_ when the crying started."

"That's not good," Hermione sighed, joining the procession. By the time they'd left the pitch, Anthony Kirke was a speck at the top of the hill. Johnson continued to hurtle after him at an impressive speed, her Quidditch robes flapping madly behind her.

 _I should have taken Umbridge down when I had the chance,_ Jake thought as he stared into the distance. _We were totally set at the beginning of the year. Things would never have gotten this bad if she weren't around_...

And then a light bulb clicked to life in Jake's brain.

"Something wrong, Jake?" Hermione whispered. She edged away from the rest of the team, who stood beside the pitch walls uncertain of how to proceed with their captain fading into the distance.

The gears in Jake's mind ground to a halt. Back when he had his partner in crime, he might have been able to dethrone the Ministry's lapdog. But now? Even with his talents, it would be impossible to chase the toad away considering she was Headmistress. His chest was clenching tightly as he balanced Kirke's abandoned broomstick against his shoulder and slipped a piece of paper out from his pocket. Using his hand as a table, he scribbled down _I m_ _iss Fred_.

"Oh," Hermione puzzled, genuinely confused. "Well he's just there, if you want to talk to him."

Now equally bemused, Jake followed her gaze to see Harry just exiting the pitch flanked by the Weasley twins. _Duh,_ _she thought I was talking about...FRED..._

A second bright light bulb joined the first.

"There you two are. Was that your uncle, John?" Harry asked.

"Yes!" Hermione answered a bit too quickly. "He's meeting with Umbridge and stopped for a visit."

"Shame he couldn't stay for the performance," George derided.

"A performance which, considering that Gryffindor is now short a Beater, has begun to lose its entertainment value," Fred admitted.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy though, really."

"I'd rather be disqualified than have another match with Kirke in the air."

"We won't be disqualified," Harry interrupted. "Johnson will find someone."

Fred jerked a thumb in the direction of Johnson's chase. "Someone who'd volunteer for that kind of punishment? Good luck finding _that_ lunatic."

 _I really wish y'all would zip it for five seconds._ Jake flung his hand in the air at Fred, who suddenly looked pleasantly surprised.

"Well that was fast," he said, eyeing the broom still resting against Jake's shoulder. "Rethink our earlier request, did you?"

 _Earlier request?_ _Dawg_ , _I just want you to..._

"How are you on a broom?" Ginny called, walking over from the circle of players to join them. "Have you ever played Beater before?"

 _Say what?_ Jake looked at the broom leaning against his shoulder and immediately flung it away like some grotesque insect. He waved his hands in denial. _Yo, that's not what I meant! We're on two TOTALLY different..._

"No! No way he's on the team!" Ron stomped over with a finger aimed at his sister. "You can't play Quidditch if you can't talk!"

She planted her hands on her hips. "Because your fat mouth does you so much good?"

Ron's ears burned red as his hair, and his rushed retort was only half intelligible. The twins watched in silent admiration until Fred noticed the note Jake was holding out to him. George read it over his shoulder and the two shared the exact look of conniving curiosity that Jake had been hoping for.

"Well you're just full of surprises," George mumbled in disbelief. "Always the quiet types you've gotta watch out for."

"Not that we don't appreciate the offer," Fred said cautiously, "but how long _exactly_ have you been interested in educational delinquency?"

The argument between the younger Weasleys continued to swell as the other players joined in, all of them oblivious to Jake's sidebar discussion. He smirked and scratched out another message, knowing exactly what it would take to win their support. When they read the message, Fred and George's intrigue became outright shock.

"You're joking?" George laughed skeptically. Jake shook his head. "Sodding hell, and you wait until now to mention it? Of course we'll help!"

"On one condition." Fred picked up Kirke's broom and held it horizontally in front of Jake. "We'll help _you_ if you help _us_. It's only good business."

Jake rolled his eyes and wrote out another note for the twins. _Way to go, Jake. Tell them you can fly and now they want you on the team. No problem. Oh wait, that's right! YOU DON'T HAVE ANY WINGS._

George read it aloud. " _Lied before, can't fly, never have._ " He turned to Fred unimpressed. "Lying? Honestly, is there no good left in the world?"

"Then this'll be your first lesson," Fred persisted. "All you need to do is stay upright and hold a bat for one match, and you've got a deal."

 _You aren't listening, freckles! I can't make wizard magic, I can't use wizard wands, I can't do wizard anything!_ Jake bent down, snatched the broom back up, and raised it between his legs. _Y'all won't listen? Fine! See for yourself!_

Hermione turned away from the others just as he began to lean forward and bend his knees. "Hey John, what are...wait, _don't_...!"

Jake pushed off from the ground and collapsed against the broomstick from the sudden force of takeoff. He hung frozen twenty feet in the air above the others, who had all ceased their bickering at the sight of his sudden ascent.

_But...but..._

"So!" Fred shouted up to him. "Are you a size small or extra small?"

* * *

The walk to Snape's office never failed to torment Harry.

The corridors were always more cold and foreboding, the torches were always dimmer, and the lessons themselves always ended worse than before. Harry's rare attempts at clearing his mind continued to prove fruitless, and he had no doubt that Snape would use the opportunity to tear away at him. Worst of all, Harry had lost his last bastion away from the torture and kept finding himself thinking on how much he'd rather be at DA session, or really _anywhere_ else, than entertaining the Potions professor.

Only his promise to Professor Dumbledore stopped him from skipping out altogether. It had been three days since Umbridge had uncovered their schemes and mistakenly accused the Headmaster of their wrongdoings, and though Harry had himself escaped punishment, the same could not be said for the Headmaster. Harry wanted to uphold Dumbledore's parting request, if for nothing else just to spite the Ministry, but with Umbridge now Headmistress, O.W.L.s mere weeks away, and the impending threat of Voldemort, focusing on mental barriers proved more difficult than ever.

Because of this, his 'dreams' continued to grow worse. His scar stung constantly, and visions of the Department of Mysteries had become a weekly routine. The worst part was that Harry almost looked forward to them now. Each time he traveled a bit farther, discovered the next step in the vision, and just the night before he'd seen something beyond intriguing. Past the first door, down the hallway, through the circular connecting room, and beyond the corridor of glowing light, was a bleak labyrinth of soft blue wisps. Endless towering shelves stretched into the darkness, and each was was dotted with equally innumerable glowing orbs like stars wading through the night sky. Harry had walked down the aisles, brushing over their glassy surfaces until he came upon one that shined brighter than the rest. Voices whispered out of the darkness as he reached out to touch its radiant light, to feel its warmth in his hand...

His knuckles rapped against Snape's office door, and he was answered by a leering drawl. "Enter."

Instead of orbs, Harry found the familiar jars of floating organs and desiccated creatures adorning Snape's shelves. The man himself stood over his desk, staring down into the reflective film of Dumbledore's Pensieve. He lifted the tip of his wand away from his temple and dragged with it a ghostly silver strand that he flicked and prodded down into the artifact's swirling waters. He then appraised Harry with cold indifference. "For once, Potter, you are on time."

Without comment, Harry took his place across the desk from Snape. Before either could speak further, Snape's door flung open again and Malfoy stood in the doorway winded. "Professor! The Headmistress..." he noticed Harry staunchly avoiding his gaze, "...Potter?"

"Remedial Potions, Draco," Snape clarified. "What is it?"

Draco was trying and failing to contain his laughter, and it made Harry's cheeks burn. "The Defense corridor's covered in some kind of slime that's spreading along the floor. Headmistress Umbridge wants your help."

Snape's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly with impatience. "This won't take long, Potter. Wait here."

He swept from the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Harry alone in the haunting chamber. Harry threw himself down in a chair, furious with his surroundings. He was already enraged for the evening and Snape hadn't so much as lifted his wand. Not for the first time, he considered abandoning the effort and simply returning to his dormitory, but the guilt of disobeying Dumbledore's instructions kept him immobilized.

Light flickered from the Pensieve at the edge of Harry's vision, drawing his attention. Its contents shimmered with murky images, remnants of the distant memories lost in its depths. He leaned over the bowl and thought he could see faces and objects when a dark temptation overcame him. A quick look confirmed the office door was still closed, and he could hear nothing beyond the walls, but there was no telling how much time he would have.

His heart pounding, Harry gripped the desk and plunged his head into the Pensieve.

A tingling wave spread over his face, and for a few seconds he was engulfed in rough spinning as though he'd grabbed onto a poorly enchanted Portkey. Color oozed into his surroundings, painting what Harry soon recognized as the large beech tree on the shore of the Black Lake. He watched students wade out into the waters and relax in the shade until he noticed a small group of students laughing a few feet away.

"Nice one, Prongs!" a lanky boy with long black hair cheered a slightly shorter boy with glasses at the front of their group of four Gryffindors. They stood over the body of a fifth boy, who was lying on his back and taking deep, shaking breaths.

"You're always good for a little fun, _Snivellus._ " The boy Harry now recognized as a younger version of his father stood smiling, admiring the wand in his hand. Harry's head was racing for some reasoning, some allowable circumstance that could explain for the scene before him.

"Thank you, Padfoot." James announced to the others beside him, "Now, who wants to see me take off Snivellus's trousers?"

"You're a creep, Potter. You know that, right?" The group of boys shied away at the approach of a similarly aged girl, also wearing Gryffindor robes. She stepped between them and the boy struggling to rise from the ground, his face hidden behind a curtain of greasy black hair.

The smirk on James's face faltered. "It's just Snivellus, Evans. But we can talk it over if it bothers you so much... _in private_. _"_

"I'd rather kiss the Giant Squid." The three other boys behind him bit back their laughter as the boy on the ground finally managed to lift his head.

"Leave me alone," he hissed at the girl. "I don't need any help from a filthy _mudblood._ "

Her momentary shock was quickly replaced by cold dejection. "Fine then. Have fun in the dirt."

Lily Evans about faced and strode away, never looking back at the cringing teenage form of Severus Snape. He was staring after her when his legs swung upward and lifted into the air. James watched mercilessly from below, his wand following Snape as he drifted slowly upwards, blood pooling in his head. "You shouldn't have said that, _Snivellus_."

The churning in Harry's stomach had become unbearable when powerful fingers snared the back of his robes and dragged him back to reality. He flew backwards and landed on the cold floor of Snape's dim office, his head meeting the stone and sending bursts of light through his vision. He had little time to collect himself before Snape, now older and filled with primal fury, dragged him upward against the shelves by the scruff of his neck. The Potions Master's breaths were deep and ragged.

"Professor, I..." Harry stuttered.

"You will tell no one," Snape demanded in a sinister tone.

"No, of course not!" Harry answered, his throat burning from the pressure.

Snape threw him towards the door, and Harry only just managed not to lose his footing. "Get out."

"But what about..."

" _Get...OUT!_ "

Harry did not ask twice. The office door slammed behind him, and he heard the impact of what sounded like one of Snape's glass jars shattering against the wood. Harry ran all the way back to the Gryffindor common room, trying harder than ever before to clear his mind. Snape's rage had been bone rattling, but the memory of the terrorism instigated by his own father was a poison that seeped into his very core.

The couches and chairs in the common room were scattered with students beginning their annual cramming for finals. Hermione and John were the first to see him enter, both rising from their places beside the fireplace at his passing. Hermione reached out in surprise. "You're back early. How was..."

"I'm going to bed." If she called after him, Harry didn't hear it. Thoughtlessly, he wandered up the stairs and into his dormitory. Ron was toying with a Gobstone in his bed, but Harry shared no words and instead enclosed himself in the privacy of his curtained four-poster. No pain emanated from his scar, but the aching in his chest more than compensated, and the memory from the Pensieve kept Harry thoroughly enslaved.

Snape was right all along, and Harry had seen it with his own eyes. For years, whenever someone had compared Harry to James his heart had swelled with pride. Yet the James Potter Harry had invented was a childish fabrication. The real James, who had tormented helpless students by the lakeside for his own amusement, filled Harry only with shame. And if the figment of his parents had been false, what other lies was he built upon? What did he truly know of himself, of those he surrounded himself with? How could he be sure he even knew right from wrong?

Harry's only certainty was his regret for being so blind. He wished he'd never kept his promise to Dumbledore.


	28. Through Rose-Tinted Glasses

It was an arid cave with a strangely rancid smell about it. No water dripped from the crumbling walls, and no animal tracks marked the ground. There were no webs, no nests, no moss, no signs at all of any life having crossed the cave in ages, magical or otherwise.

He had been careful to cover his tracks.

"Hello! Anybody home?"

The echoing voice was accompanied by the sound of claws scraping through pebbles and coarse dirt. He edged carefully into the shadows as the voice beckoned again, "Come out, come out, little Yowie!"

His guest came into view. From what little light seeped this far into the cavern, he could see the outline of a lean yellow dragon sifting through the stalagmites. The orange stripes lining his back melded seamlessly with the surrounding earth as he moved between formations. He passed just by him and continued obliviously further into the cave.

"I know you're in here somewhere!" The dragon searched the darkness around him, sniffing the air and cringing at the odor. "Got a call from a village down the way about some bushie bigfoot taking a walkabout last night. You'll get caught for good if you stay here!"

Keeping to the shadows, he slid carefully towards the loose boulders above the cave entrance as the yellow dragon below began to lose his patience. "Okay, what'ya want? Food? Shiny stuff? Come out and-"

One strong pull was all it took. His claws tore the crumbing roof down and sealed the cavern closed while the dragon whirled in surprise. Coughing and shouting, the dragon charged toward the blockage and began clawing at the debris.

He stepped out carefully into the dark cavern. The dragon's antler-like horns twitched, and he spun back around. His eyes were narrowed and lit with a dull, pulsing, yellow glow.

"Show yourself!" The dragon's head swiveled side to side, his teeth bared in a silent growl. He spat a fireball of blue flame into an outstretched claw and held it high, throwing trembling shadows across the cave and bringing the blue-scaled creature before him into sharp relief. Instantly, the dragon's stance relaxed and his maw sagged with wonder.

"Are you alone?"

"I'll be stuffed... _Lao Shi?_ " A strained half-laugh choked itself out of Fred's throat. "I can't believe it! And here I am looking to spot a-"

" _Are you alone?_ "

Fred blinked at his harsh tone, but nodded stiffly. "Too busy for small talk, huh? Yeah, it's just me. Dominic thought it'd be good to start running on my own."

"Good." The tension in Lao Shi's shoulders eased itself and he stepped further into the Australian Dragon's blue light. Fred's eyes instantly widened with concern.

"Lao, you look terrible. Is something wrong?"

"I have little time, Fred." Lao Shi kept his tone as even as possible. "Do you know where Jake is?"

He knew the Australian Dragon's answer the moment he saw his head tilt in genuine confusion. "You mean he's not with you? The World Dragon Council reported you two missing months ago, everyone thinks the Dark Dragon got the jump on you guys."

"Another dead end." Exhaustion clung to his mind and body; it felt like a decade had passed since he left New York. "He always relied on his friends during difficult times. I was _certain_ that...but I was wrong, once again."

"Another...?" Fred jerked forward. "Jake really did go missing. You've been looking for him this whole time, haven't you? Tell me you found something!"

Lao Shi couldn't bring himself to answer. He looked to the small crystal hanging from the band around his wrist and thought of the door to Jake's mind. Even under his most focused attempts, it had remained as impenetrable as Rose had promised. "Nothing."

Fred laughed, jarring Lao Shi out of his thoughts. The yellow dragon raised a comforting hand toward him. "No offense, mate, but you got a few 'roos loose in the top paddock. It's a big world, you can't expect to cover it all by yourself. Let me and Dominic help, we'll find Jake before-!"

"I must leave." He edged away from Fred's reach and began to tear away at the wall of crumbling stone he'd created. "For Jake's own safety, the World Dragon Council must remain ignorant of my movements. Should Dominic ask, you found only an empty cave. Nothing more."

"Wait, Lao-!"

Debris streamed around them as Lao Shi's claws broke through to daylight. The dust threw Fred into a coughing fit, and the flames he'd held fizzled into darkness. Lao Shi slipped through the torrent and into the blaring savanna beyond, soaring into the pale, empty sky.

Far below, he heard Fred yell through the rubble. "Lao, _listen_ _!_ "

He paused, hovering in mid air as the Australian Dragon fought for breath. "You're right about him!" he hacked through dust and sapphire flames. "Jake never leaves his friends, trust me!"

He considered it a moment, then continued his course. Lao Shi flew fast with an urgency powering his body, refusing to slow even after the cave was miles behind him. For once, he didn't feel weighed down by guilt or fatigue.

All he could feel was a sick churning in his stomach that told him he was almost out of time.

* * *

" _I don't care if I have to give you private lessons every night myself, Potter. I will help you become an Auror if it is the last thing I do!_ "

Jake leaned against the wall outside Professor McGonagall's office, his hand pressed over his mouth as he heaved with silent laughter. He had just left the mischievous company of the Weasley twins to make his appointment with the Head of Gryffindor House, fully anticipating a boring and awkward half hour of one sided conversation. After all, what was there for him to say at a Career Advisement for wizards? Good intentions aside, Jake could see little for him to gain by pretending to care about his prospects as a _Muggle Consultant_ or _Assistant Apothecary._ He doubted even more that the other _real_ fifth-years felt much different, given their rapidly growing exam-induced anxiety.

It was a pleasant surprise, then, when he found himself in the priceless position of listening to McGonagall deliver one of her most crisp and debilitating tirades to none other than Professor Frog-Face herself. Their voices echoed so well through the thick office door that Jake didn't even need to conjure up his dragon ears to enjoy the feud.

" _Next I suppose you'll promise to bring Dumbledore back to the school as well?_ " Jake could just imagine it, the puny little woman flushed red in the face and pointing a shaky finger at the towering Transfiguration professor.

" _Your arrogance is unflattering,_ Delores, _and I assure you Professor Dumbledore does not require my assistance in that matter_ _."_

" _May I take that as a confession,_ Minerva _? Perpetrating another plot against the Minister, no doubt!_ "

" _You're raving, and we're finished. You may go, Potter._ "

By the time the office door creaked open and Harry appeared in the hallway, Jake had collapsed against the wall and was sitting on the floor, the muscles in his cheeks burning from prolonged laughter. Harry shambled by, downcast and focused so intently on his feet that he nearly failed to notice Jake twitching on the ground. "Oh, hey John. Your turn next?"

Jake wiped away a joyful tear and nodded, climbing back up to his feet. The heated argument continued to escalate in the awaiting office, and Harry took another careful step away from the gaping door. "Well, good luck. I'll, uh...see you at practice."

He disappeared down the hall while Jake struggled to recover from the sensation of getting slugged in the stomach. He'd all but forgotten about his first Quidditch practice that afternoon, and the day's thrills seemed minuscule in comparison to the embarrassments that no doubt loomed ahead.

With slow, reluctant movements, he shuffled over to the open door and looked on as the two professors continued their verbal warfare. _Compared to this place, being grounded for life doesn't sound so bad._

"Your blatant disloyalty and lack of respect are a mockery of this institution!"

"If anyone is a _mockery_ , it's-"

Jake wrapped his knuckles against the door. Both women snapped to him with vicious stares and quickly collected themselves after realizing their argument had drawn an audience. Umbridge hobbled over to a short stool in the corner of the room while Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk and smoothed out piles of pamphlets and papers that crowded its surface.

She fixed her sharp eyes on him and waved to the chair in front of her. "Good afternoon, Mr. Long. Have a seat."

Umbridge had taken to scribbling across a clipboard as Jake sat down in the rough wooden chair and examined the brochures on the professor's desk. Each little booklet had a cartoonish drawing of some occupation accompanied by an equally bizarre title and motto. The nearest one read " _Under the rug or over their heads, whatever floats their boat! Join the Muggle Excuse Committee!_ " and was decorated with a poorly disguised wizard pointing to an upside-down line graph. Though entertaining, the resemblance to the packet they'd found in the Restricted Section was disturbingly uncanny, and it twisted Jake's stomach into knots. _Talk about sticking with tradition._ _I guess some things never change._

"Alright, Mr. Long." Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses. "As you know, this meeting is intended for me to help you decide what future you would like to pursue after Hogwarts and plan which N.E.W.T.s you will have to take accordingly. Since acceptance to N.E.W.T. level courses is based on your performance in your O.W.L.s, it is important to know where you stand and which tests you should focus on."

Jake nodded politely and tried to ignore the sound of Umbridge's quill moving angrily over parchment. Professor McGonagall leaned back and continued, "Have you thought about how you may wish to apply yourself?"

Jake sighed. _Now that you mention it, I did, but I don't see the handout for "Becoming a Guardian of the Magical World"._ He merely shrugged and shook his head.

"No matter." She dug through a stack of plump manila envelopes and removed one that was far thinner than the rest. "You have not attended Hogwarts for long, but perhaps reviewing your performance thus far will help us see where your strengths lie."

 _My report card?_ Jake leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse of the papers, but Professor McGonagall held them tilted out of his sight.

"Professor Hagrid has consistently given you top marks...as has Professor Snape, that's a high recommendation." She flipped to the next page. "You're achieving an 'Outstanding' in History of Magic, that takes persistence...and your Herbology scores are adequate." Her lips pressed into a thin line on the next page. "Divination and Charms do not appear to be going well, and I can personally say that your abilities in Transfiguration are far from the standard level."

 _Yo, which one of us can turn into a fire-breathing dragon?_ Jake folded his arms and tried to shrug off his irritation. Being criticized about his grades had always been a touchy subject, and apparently that didn't change when the grades were for magic he was physically incapable of performing.

A tiny, sweet _ahem_ squeaked from Umbridge's corner of the room. One of Professor McGonagall's hands crushed the paper held in its grasp, and she looked up with restrained rage. "Delores?"

"I'm not sure if you received my reports," she mentioned freely. "I'm afraid Mr. Long's performance in Defense Against the Dark Arts has also been..."

"You are clearly talented in Potions and Care of Magical Creatures." Professor McGonagall turned away from her with intense disinterest. "Have you considered applying to the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures? I understand your uncle is the head of the department, you may do very well there."

"I'm afraid I must disagree." Umbridge clapped her clipboard against her lap and examined Jake like he were a stain on her blouse. "Mr. Long's recent transgressions have thoroughly shot any chance of him ever working for the Ministry."

Jake rolled his eyes. _Dang_ , _and I was so looking forward to pencil-pushing for your pasty, wrinkled_ _backside_. Professor McGonagall, however, was grimacing and halfway out of her seat with a tart retort on the tip of her tongue. Just then, her office door thumped with rapid knocking.

McGonagall closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Come in."

The door creaked open and a Hufflepuff girl Jake didn't recognize sidled in through the gap. Her mouth was open to speak, but she hesitated at seeing Jake, the desk filled with paperwork, and McGonagall's irritated expression. "Yes, what is it Ms. Tate?"

"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, but there are...er...dancing statues," she explained nervously.

Professor McGonagall stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

The girl shifted to her other foot. "The statues, they've started gathering from all over the castle and they're doing some kind of jig in the Great Hall. It's actually pretty good..."

Jake dug his nails into his legs trying to contain his amusement. It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes since he'd parted from the Weasley twins, with whom he had promised a delivery of unique magical gags. The only catch was that Jake was going to need a pair of wings to get to them, so he had left the two deviants with a simple request: one enormous, inescapable distraction.

There was a sharp _clip-clop_ as Umbridge bounced to her feet. "Who is responsible? Why haven't they been stopped?" she demanded.

The Hufflepuff girl recoiled at noticing the small woman. "I don't know! Professor Flitwick tried some counterspell, but they just dragged him into their routine. No one can reach him, and we couldn't find you in your office, so-"

Umbridge gave an exaggerated huff and peeled out of the room, the breeze from her brisk exit toppling several stacks of career pamphlets. She gave no farewells as she left, dragging the other girl out by the wrist.

Professor McGonagall waited until the door snapped shut to finally retake her seat, the corner of her lips perked into a smirk. "Well Mr. Long, I think we've about finished up here. Take any brochures that interest you, though I suggest you consider those involving the strengths we discussed."

Jake nodded and picked up a few of the more absurd examples, mostly so he'd have some humorous souvenirs, but also to appease Professor McGonagall. "And before you go, Mr. Long."

He watched curiously as she clasped her hands in front of her and observed him with unnerving skepticism. "During the events in the Headmaster's office last week, Professor Dumbledore instructed you to trust in me even more than him should you need anything, correct?" She lifted her glasses away and squinted down at him. "Professor Dumbledore is no stranger to secrets, but it is rare that I am not included in them."

 _Aw man._ Jake could feel himself sweating and tugged at the collar of his shirt. _Come on, lady, don't be like this. You're one of the weirdos here I actually like_.

"That said," she continued more gently, "I don't intend to pry and ruin such a prestigious recommendation from the Headmaster. If the time comes, _whatever_ that time may be, you know where to find me."

 _Oh._ Silence filled the gap left by her solemn promise, and deep down Jake knew she meant what she'd said. Something about her unfaltering demeanor and the air of reserved kindness she carried was comforting to him. He doubted neither her sincerity nor her character, and were it not for Stout's own sake he may very well have slipped the collar from his neck right there. As it was, knowing he had another fallback plan would have to do.

He tried to think of some way to show his appreciation, but Professor McGonagall stood first. "By the way, I spoke with Ms. Johnson this morning about the team roster changes. I'll have you know I've gotten quite used to having the Quidditch Cup in my office." She nodded and began collecting her papers. "Good luck."

The walk to the ground floor was not nearly long enough to ease Jake's nerves. He was still compulsively biting his nails by the time the Great Hall came into view, along with the blockade of students that had formed in front of it. Through the open doors, he could see dozens of stone soldiers and suits of armor inside the dining hall perfectly undulating in what could only be the Electric Slide. The spectators cheered as Professor Flitwick was carried through the motions by two statues while Umbridge ran about, trying to end the festivities with a myriad of utterly ineffective spells.

Jake kept to the back of the crowd, clapping along with their booming applause as the largest of the living statues heaved Umbridge over its shoulder and bounced her around like an overgrown child. Her cries had begun to fade as she was carried into the dining hall when a voice spoke just over his shoulder. "Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

His hair stood on end as he turned to Hermione, who seemed determined not to enjoy the scenery. She looked on the verge of a rant, but Jake grabbed her arm and guided her in the opposite direction through the open doors to the castle grounds. He'd been given his distraction, but there was no telling how long it would last.

Hermione allowed him to direct her down the fields, sighing with annoyance. "You just _know_ Fred and George are behind that. It's all good and fun to taunt Umbridge, but they're distracting the rest of us from studying! Honestly, it's very inconsiderate."

Jake dragged the training collar up and over his head. "Girl, you gotta learn to take it easy. If anything, we're _helping_ everyone with their exams by keeping them in a good mood! It's all about attitude, baby."

She snatched her arm out of his grasp and gave him a wry, scathing look. "You helped them?"

"Well, sort of. I just lent them a pair of magic Boogie Woogie Briefs a couple days ago that my sis' gave me last Christmas."

" _Boogie Woogie Briefs?_ A pair of enchanted underwear?" She tapped a finger against her lip in thought. "And only a few days? Recreating a spell like that with only the material object normally takes _weeks_..."

"I know, right? They're really-"

"I can't believe you, Jake!" she snapped. "You're _supposed_ to be keeping a low profile!"

Jake crossed his arms as they walked, dreading the ring of wooden stands in the distance. "Yeah, well Quidditch kind of ruined that plan. Maybe if _someone_ had told me ahead of time that I could actually use a broomstick-"

"And I'm just supposed to know that, am I?"

"Hey, you're the brains of this outfit."

She smiled and shook her head. "How many times did I say that you might be able to do more than Old Magic? Now that we know you can fly-"

"Old news, yo."

"-just think what else you might be able to do!" She squinted up at the sky, biting her lip and lost in thought. Jake rolled his eyes and continued leading the way down the sloping fields towards the Black Lake, passing the fork in the path that led to the Quidditch pitch. "Uh, Jake? We need to go-"

"I know, I know," he waved her off. "We're taking a little detour."

She flicked her wrist out and checked her watch. "Well we don't have much time, your practice starts in-"

" _Don't say it_." Jake cringed at the unsettling churning of his stomach. They reached the point where the path began to lead sharply downward toward the shore of the Lake, but Jake stopped along the edge of the incline and gazed toward the towering cliff that Hogwarts rested upon.

He threw an arm over Hermione's shoulder and pointed toward the cliff face. "Believe it or not, I didn't help Fred and George out with their prank just to mess with Umbridge. I've gotta grab some _supplies_ from the Den for them, and since you're here I was even thinking you could tag along. But hey, if you'd rather go straight to the Quidditch field..."

"The Den?" She gaped in the direction of the cave, blinking repeatedly. "Where you lived? But I thought we weren't allowed, that Dumbledore had put some sort of ward in place?"

"Pft, the dude skipped town a week ago, Hermione. Whatever hokus-pokus he did is probably long gone." Jake stepped away from her and turned his focus inward until he felt the pool of warmth at his core. He gradually let the energy seep into his hands, and streaks of fire burst over the skin of his arms in scorching waves. Jake drew his hands close to his chest and relished the power he now so rarely had license to use before releasing it all in one consuming wave of blazing heat. "Dragon UP!"

A few seconds passed where his mind felt disjointed and lost in burning euphoria before he stood taller and breathed with larger, more powerful lungs. Jake stretched in the daylight and shook with the adrenaline coursing through his body. "Oh baby, that's what I'm SAYIN'!"

Hermione watched skeptically, tapping a finger against her chin. "If Old Magic doesn't require any incantations, then why do you say 'Dragon Up' when you transform?"

"Because I'm awesome, quit killing the mood." He bent down closer to her level and held out his arms. "So are you coming or what?"

She looked like she was about to argue, but instead tucked a hair behind her ear and gave him a uncharacteristically crooked smile. "The school's already caught up with the statues, and it'd be a shame to waste the opportunity...why not?"

"I actually think I might be having a bad influence on you," Jake laughed as she stepped forward. He carefully lifted her sideways, tucking one arm beneath the crook of her knees and setting the other below her back. Familiar tingling danced across his scales, and he fought to ignore the sweat beading on his forehead as he lifted her off the ground and extended his wings. "Welcome, and thank you for choosing American Airlines for your travelling needs. As we prepare for takeoff, please locate your nearest emergency exit, stow all luggage, and return seats and tray tables to their upright positions."

Hermione chuckled in his arms. "Oh get on with it, would yo- _ooOOH_ _!_ "

She instinctively curled toward his chest and latched her arms around his neck as he launched into the air. The jagged cliff face curved to the side as Jake angled toward the Dragon's Den, enjoying the wind streaming over his spine. "Sit back and relax, Hermione. We'll be there before you know it!"

Her face slid up an inch and she yelled through her billowing hair, "I really think I'd feel safer on your back next time, if it's all the same!"

"Not a horse, Hermione!" Keeping close to the rock face and hopefully out of sight of the castle towers, Jake sped onward until the small dock and accompanying boathouse came into view. A large cave sat carved in the overhang just before the ravine that ran beneath the school, a grotto set far out of reach of any curious, foot-bound students. Jake carefully ducked below its entrance and flew well into the tunnel's black depths until they arrived at the central chamber.

Dust kicked up around them as he landed and eased Hermione to her feet. "Dirty, cold, and smells like feet. It's like we never left."

She stumbled forward and felt around with cautious motions. "It's a bit _darker_ than I'd imagined. How are you supposed to find anything? Where's my wand..."

"Oh, right! My bad." Jake looked up and spat a sizzling fireball at the dangling brass chandelier. The ornament rocked and creaked in the shower of sparks, the caught candles lighting the room in a soft glow. "Forgot about the whole 'not-having-night-vision' thing. Better?"

"Much," Hermione whispered admiringly, approaching the large round table at the center of the stone dome. She followed its curve, moving between the oversized chairs as she ran her fingers through the film of dust that covered its surface. "It's all so plain. Where do the smaller tunnels lead?"

"Bedrooms and stuff. I'm just gonna see what I can find and then we can get outta here, cool?" Jake slipped down his own tunnel, uncertain why he suddenly felt so uneasy in his former home, and brushed into his old room. As expected, he found it unchanged and empty but for the enormous pad he'd used as a bed and a few papers scattered on the floor. He scrounged through the scant garbage and searched every crevice, but there wasn't a trace of any of his former belongings.

"Of course, the one time I actually clean. Looks like it's up to you, Nerk." Jake sped back out into the corridor and toward Fred's room, shying away from the other doors he passed and the way they made his stomach churn. Fred's door stood slightly open, and the vacant interior was nearly identical to his own room. A few yellow scales and a long rotten apple were all that remained of the Australian Dragon's stay.

Jake kicked aside the trash and reached for the bedding. "Come on, Fred, work with me here. I know you left something; give me a confetti-cracker, a magic stink bomb, some invisible soap..."

He flipped over the mattress pad and nearly cheered. A shallow groove sat carved in the floor with a plain brown box nestled inside. Jake eagerly turned it over in his large hands and slid a claw beneath the lip of the lid. "Please be something good, please be something good..."

The cardboard top popped off, and a white tag fell out in a flurry of packing scraps. Bending down to pick it up, Jake had to squint to read the lines of absurdly tiny legal type. " _Pyro-Providers Inc. is not responsible for any burns, breaks, blazes, or blasts resulting from the use of this product_..."

It felt like the box had spontaneously doubled in weight in Jake's hand. Fighting his trepidation and trying not to breathe directly over the box, he plunged his claws into the rest of the paper scraps and pulled out a round cardboard tube. Its wrapping was striped and multicolored, and it looked almost like a toy kaleidoscope without any lenses. Yet as decorative as it was, he could make no sense of the surreptitious object held in his claws until he noticed a wick dangling from one of its ends with a pack of accompanying matches taped to its side.

"Hold up...this kinda looks like..." Jake started flinging away the rest of the packaging. Joy bubbled in his chest as he found dozens of more tubes innocently piled together like Lincoln Logs, some with rocket fins and others with cone shaped heads.

"HERMIONE!" Jake slapped the lid firmly back on his volatile prize, appreciating just how seriously the Australian Dragon took his hobbies. "This is _insane_ , I so owe you one Nerk. Hermione! Where are you?"

There was no response. The package tucked beneath his arm, Jake slid back into the corridor and followed the flickering candle light back to the central chamber, only to find that Hermione was no where in sight. He paced around the edge of the room and peered down the door-lined corridors, but he couldn't look at any of them for long before the back of his throat began to burn. Memories of the people that had once shared the Den with him seeped into his thoughts until his mind felt thick and his focus waned.

Did Haley and Nerk miss him? Were his parents worried? It had been months since he'd left on New Year's eve, what if Trix and Spud had given up on him? Jake thought back to how he refused Stout's offer to send his family a letter before boarding the train to Hogwarts. At the time it had seemed like the safest thing to do, but now the thought made him feel like he'd swallowed a boulder. Annoyed by the sudden remorse, Jake growled and shook his head. "Marco? Ollie ollie oxen free? For real, Hermione, you're creeping me out here!"

A half-laughing voice echoed down from one of the corridors. "Is that you Jake? I'm here!"

"Couldn't sit still for two minutes," Jake mumbled, gliding down the most foreboding of the tunnels. He reached the door at the end and moved to push it open, focused on the box held beneath his arm and the nagging despair stubbornly clinging to his mind. "I'm sick of this place, Hermione. Let's-"

His throat clenched and ensnared the rest of his thought. At the center of the chamber lit by soft blue wand light, Hermione stood above a low tea table with an old newspaper in her hand. She smiled at the article with melancholy affection, the only emotion in a room that was otherwise as barren as the rest of the Den.

Her gaze drifted to where Jake stood rigid in the doorway. "Sorry, I thought I might have time to look around. This was the _Daily Prophet_ they issued right after that Quidditch game where Harry fell. The writing is abysmal, but I always liked the photo."

"You shouldn't be in here." Jake's hands furled and unfurled as he stepped beside her and took the paper from her confused grasp. _Dragons Cause Disaster at Quidditch Pitch_ , a slanted retelling that Jake remembered vividly and even now made steam rise from his nostrils. The black and white picture beside the article showed the playing field from the view of the stands, warping and shifting as as the crowd cheered for the figures flying above them. Jake could see Johnson tearing down the field, Dominic charging after her, Sun swaying in front of her rings, a Blue Serpent twisting to strike a passing Bludger...

"Is something wrong?" Hermione looked up at him with concern, the blue light from her wand glaring off of the whites of her eyes. "You look upset."

Jake turned away and walked out of the room. "I'll be better once we're out of here, c'mon." He couldn't bear to look back at the hallways filled with dangerous memories, but the patter of shoes on a dirt floor told him Hermione was following close behind him.

They were passing through the central chamber when she fell into step beside him, her hands clasped in front of her. "I'm sorry, Jake. I should have asked before wandering around. You're mad at me, aren't you?"

His maw crumpled into a half-smile. "Mad at you? No way. Trust me, you'll know it if I'm ever mad at you."

Her pace slowed as they moved around another bend in the tunnel. Dim strands of light were just beginning to appear ahead of them. "Then what is it? What's wrong?"

Jake couldn't see her where she'd fallen behind him, and it was probably for the better. He knew what he wanted to get off of his chest, but he wasn't sure if he'd finally have the guts to say it. "I think this was a mistake...coming back to Hogwarts, I mean."

He stopped walking and bowed his head, his eyes drifting to the black claws of his feet. Hermione said nothing and a steady _thum...thum...thum_ pounded in his head, pushing him past his reservations. "I never really mentioned it before, but I wasn't supposed to come here. I mean it's kind of obvious, the Ministry hates the Dragons and we don't trust the wizards. No one would _ever_ be down with it, but Dumbledore came and asked me in person. What was I supposed to do, say no? After all the stuff that went down last year?"

The pounding came more quickly, and Jake scowled at the floor. He hated the excuses as they came out of his mouth, and his anger turned to disgust. "I didn't even tell my family. I didn't tell _anyone_. I just left. It's not like I _liked_ it, but they would have tried to stop me, you know? I thought I was doing the right thing. It was kinda rough back home and all I could think about was how much better it'd be if...if I wasn't around."

 _Thum...Thum...Thum_...

Jake could feel himself flushing beneath his scales, still turned away from a silent Hermione. Every part of him was screaming to shut up, but if he didn't say it now he knew he never would. "I think I'm mad at myself, and maybe homesick, and maybe scared. But the thing is, there's only a couple weeks left before we all go home and I don't know what I'm going to do. Just show up at my place and play it off like nothing happened? What if they blame you guys and we never get to see each other again?"

_They'll find out it was Dumbledore. They'll know Benjy helped. Game over_ _._

_THUM...THUM...THUM..._

Jake swallowed hard against the clenching in this throat. "Y'all are all my friends, and...well...I don't know what's going to happen, but no matter what I'm glad I got to hang with you, Hermione. And I...I..."

_THUM-THUM-THUM-_

He spun and yelled, " _And I just want you to know that_ _I think I really like you and_...and...Hermione?"

A few feet further back in the tunnel, Hermione stood waving her arms around and mouthing silent words at him like a mime at Central Park. She raised a hand and swung it in front of her, and Jake flinched as it struck the thin air with a louder _THUM_ and a burst of white light that radiated out to the cave walls.

"Say what?" Jake walked forward just opposite her and stuck his arm out, but it slid harmlessly right past the invisible barrier that held Hermione captive. She cocked her head before pointing to Jake and holding her arm out straight. She grabbed it her other hand and made a jerking motion toward the barrier, watching Jake expectantly. After a moment of deliberation and wondering whether it was this frustrating when everyone tried to interpret his own silence, he understood her meaning.

"Pull you?" he mouthed with exaggeration, and she nodded back. "If you say so," he cringed, reaching through the barrier and clasping her forearm. Carefully, he dragged her forward and the transparent wall shimmered for a moment, but she passed through it as smoothly as if it were fog.

"Amazing," she marveled, looking back at the once again formless barrier. "That must be Dumbledore's protective charm! I'm guessing only Dragons and the people they escort can pass through it. It even captures sound, how peculiar..."

Her casual air didn't help ease Jake's tumultuous nerves. "First time I've ever seen it. So...about what I was saying..."

"Normally you never would. We didn't even notice it when we came in, probably because you were already carrying me." She reached out and conjured the murky wall with a tap of her finger, as if ensuring it hadn't disappeared completely. "So what were you about to say, about what's wrong? I didn't hear anything after you walked through the ward."

"You didn't..." Jake's ears perked up. Given the magical nature of his clientele, Jake had no real experience in dealing with typical firearms. Even so, he was almost certain that this was what it felt like to dodge a bullet, and the uncanny fortune had him reeling.

"No time, I'll tell you later. I'm supposed to be at the field, remember?" _And watching Harry, man I'm really slipping today_. He took the box from beneath his arm and handed it to her. "We can fly the rest of the way, but can you do me a favor?"

She looked over her new package uncertainly, still staring at him with lingering concern. After rattling the box in her hands and listening to the rustling sound, however, her curiosity gave way to affronted displeasure. "This is what you came to get for Fred and George, isn't it?"

"Focus, girl." Jake lowered his arms and beckoned her forward. With a resigned sigh, she allowed him to cradle her like earlier. He turned toward the cave exit and twitched his wings in preparation. "Now, favor time. You in or out?"

She squinted up at him. "I get the feeling I don't really have a choice. It's nothing dangerous, right?"

Jake genuinely thought about that. "You should, uh...try not to drop the box."

* * *

_Titan...Phoebe...Tethas...Mimas..._

_Who wants to see me take off Snivellus's trousers?_

Harry smacked the book against his forehead. He could feel a welt forming over the spot, though it was hardly surprising. Every time the memory resurfaced he would beat it down, literally, only to have it rear its ugly head again sooner or later. Concentrating on the throbbing soreness and the now constant burning of his scar, he flipped open the textbook and stared back at the planetary diagrams.

_Mimas...Rhea...Encela-_

"Brilliant it was, absolutely brilliant!" Lee Jordan fell into the bench beside him, wheezing with laughter. "I never knew Flitwick was so light on his feet!"

"Or Umbridge, for that matter, what with her flabby little stump legs and all." Fred and George passed by and sat on Harry's other side, George picking up Harry's pile of review material to make room and dumping it unceremoniously at their feet. "Shame McGonagall finally stepped in."

"She took her sweet time, though," Fred added, leaning in towards Harry. "What about you, Harry? Enjoy the unveiling of the new Hogwarts Dancing Affiliate? Might have to think on the name, though. Keeping track of two DA's would get messy."

"Er, yeah," Harry mumbled. "Sounds good."

He knew from their confused stares that he'd said something strange. Why they were talking about professors dancing was beyond him, but between his split attention and troubled thoughts he really didn't care. Whatever it was must have been popular; he could see the few students arriving to watch the practice roaring with shared amusement just like Lee and the twins.

"Fred, George." Hermione appeared behind them with a shoebox-like package in her arms. She briskly placed it in George's surprised lap and folded her arms with a disgusted expression. "From John."

Fred snatched it eagerly. "Well we do _love_ gifts. What's in it?"

"I don't know and I don't care," she answered stiffly, shoving herself between Harry and Lee on his other side. "How are things, Harry?"

"I'm fine," he snapped, softening when he realized how harsh he'd sounded. "Just...exams and stuff, you know."

She looked unconvinced, but was stopped from prying by Fred and George's combined shouts of, " _BLIMEY_ _!_ "

Harry flinched and looked over to see the two of them staring at each other in gaping wonder with their hands clamped tightly over the box's lid. Other than a couple strands of loose paper shreds, Harry could see nothing of whatever was hidden inside.

"No!" Fred whispered.

" _Yes!_ " George sneered maniacally.

"NO!" Fred cackled.

" _YES!_ " George insisted.

Lee looked between them. "Wait, what is it?"

They jumped to their feet in unison. "Remind us, Hermione," George said, "to thank that speechless miracle-worker later."

"We're off to work. We sure know how to pick our investments, eh George?" Box in hand, Fred hurtled along the line of benches with George in tow, and the two disappeared down the nearest set of stairs.

Lee chased after them. " _Hang on, what's in the bloody box?!_ "

"I'll have nothing to do with this!" Hermione called to their backs as they vanished. She rolled her eyes and sat back down with a huff. "I wish John wouldn't encourage them, someone's going to end up getting hurt."

Harry sighed and closed his book. "Relax, Hermione. It's only Fred and George doing what they always do. And I'm sure John-"

"There he is!" She gripped his shoulder and pointed down to the field where the players were filing out onto the grass. Ron stomped out in front and swung onto his broom, flying off toward the goal hoops. The others took their time with John and Johnson in the back, the latter barking out advice while the former yanked and tugged at his overlarge robes. When the players gathered together and took to the sky, he fumbled the broomstick beneath his legs and lumbered off of the ground in short, jarring leaps.

"Well I suppose he could be doing worse," she said with feigned confidence.

"They'll be fine," Harry agreed, only to be rebuffed as Ron missed his first in what he anticipated would be another long routine of painful catches. Comparatively, classes now seemed much less torturous. Harry picked up the next of his textbooks, flipped to the chapter on Complex Organic Transmaterialization, and tried to recall the incantation for turning a snake into a party balloon.

The team went through their drills and formations, and Hermione's tense commentary slowly faded. She seemed perfectly unconcerned when the sun had fallen to the horizon and the Bludgers were being summoned back to the chest, and the players themselves had even fallen into cheerful banter on the walk back to the castle. Harry stood apart from the lively group, caged in his own world by the circling thoughts that replayed over and over like a broken record.

_You're always good for a bit of fun, Snivellus._

The shame and guilt he felt were beyond any humiliation he'd ever endured. It was like being told that the moon was fake, that gravity didn't exist. Had he ever been that way too? Just another Dudley, another Malfoy?

_You're a creep, Potter. You know that, right?_

It was impossible to digest. Maybe that's why he couldn't stop thinking about it, because deep down it was simply unacceptable. He'd seen it with his own eyes, but what if it wasn't true? What if it was a cruel jab by Snape? Then again, his reaction had left little doubt in Harry's mind. There was no mistaking that blind rage mingled with unbridled terror, the lashing out of a man who had found his deepest nightmares laid bare.

_Nice one, Prongs!_

_Thank you, Padfoot._

"Sirius."

Harry's inkwell toppled over as he jerked up in his seat, yet he failed to notice the steady black trickle. As incriminating as it was, Harry needed more before he would cast aside the memory of his parents. There were other witnesses he could corroborate it with, one of which he trusted about as much as Dumbledore himself. One problem remained, of course: how could he possibly get in touch with Sirius?

" _Padfoot_ , Harry," Hermione urged beside him. "And what about him?"

"I need to talk with him." Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, his thoughts a garbled mess. "Umbridge is watching the post and the fireplaces, so we can't use mail or the Floo network without her finding him. He can't come to Hogsmeade...I bet Dobby would take him a letter if I asked him!"

"Harry, why do you-"

"Wait, that won't work," he grumbled. "Dobby won't be able to find Grimmauld Place, he's never been there before. Now that I think about it, does the Fidelius Charm even work on House Elves?"

Hermione looked bewildered. "Well I think it ought to, but I haven't actually-"

"Mr. Weasley! Ron can send _him_ a letter to give to-"

Hermione jabbed her wand and Harry's tongue flopped out of his mouth, limp and numb. He glared at her. "Bwa wad fa fer?"

She flicked her eyes around accusingly, and he realized just how foolish he was to think their conversation was private. The tables scattered around them in the dark library were filled with students absorbed in their exam studies. Susan Bones sat beneath a tower of textbooks that teetered dangerously, John was only a few chairs away scribbling over his leather notebook, and Neville was asleep in the corner, a trail of drool dripping across the ream of parchment below his cheek.

"Why do you want to want to talk to Padfoot so badly?" Hermione whispered.

Harry's forehead surged with pain again and he eased himself back into his chair, rubbing a hand over his scar. "Nuffing, I... _ugh_." He pointed a finger from his free hand at his mouth. Hermione grudgingly undid her curse. "I just have some questions for him is all. By the way, where's Ron?"

She observed him for an uncomfortable amount of time, her expression stoic and unconvinced. "You don't remember? He said he was going to bed after dinner."

Harry idly flipped through his now thoroughly stained papers, cringing at his building migraine. "Oh, right."

Hermione shoved the papers aside and leaned closer over the table. "You're still having the dreams. No, don't try and deny it, Harry, I can tell! You _are_ trying to stop them, aren't you?"

"Because they're such a lovely experience," Harry derided, feeling his focus slipping away. Even now behind his clenched eyelids, he could see himself drifting through endless shelves filled with radiant blue orbs. Whispers reached through the murky darkness, urging him further in. He was so close...

"It's too risky trying to contact Padfoot," Hermione persisted. "You'll just have to wait. In the mean time, what you _need_ are more lessons from Snape."

Harry turned away from her suffocating attention and picked at the pale scars on the back of his hand. The skin had never completely returned to normal, and his pride of earning the physical testament to Umbridge's disdain had long since turned to a vengeful ire. It brought back the memory of the overbearing perfume that permeated her office, the frilly doilies that dotted her furniture, the ridiculous kitten-laden decorations that lined her walls and framed her fireplace...

_Umbridge's fireplace..._

"Harry?" Hermione made him flinch with a snap of her fingers. "You didn't hear anything I just said, did you?"

"No, I did," he said quickly. "It's just...er...I'm pretty tired. Think I'm going to head up and call it a night. You coming?"

She sighed dramatically. "Can't, I've still got to review half the semester's translations for Ancient Runes and outline the chapter on the uses of Flobberworms for Potions."

Harry nodded and left, only vaguely aware of Hermione's response. His fevered mind was distracted, fixated solely on exploiting the one possible loophole he could think of. The night of Dumbledore's escape, Umbridge had openly confessed to the Ministry monitoring the school's fireplaces for just the kind of covert communication Harry so desperately desired. Even attempting it could reveal Sirius's location, a secret that his very life depended upon.

It only now occurred to Harry, however, that there was one fireplace that would be under no such surveillance. After all, if Umbridge and the Ministry were all watching the students, then who was left to watch Umbridge?

The only part remaining, then, was how to access what was now the second most well protected office in Hogwarts. Fortunately, Harry didn't have to look far for his answer the next morning.

"So what do you think?"

In the shadow of the One-Eyed Witch's statue, Fred and George exchanged thoughtful looks with each other. With every second that passed, Harry, who had fully anticipated their support, could feel his spirits dwindling.

"Well..." George hesitated, scratching his chin. "It won't be easy. Since students have started playing pranks nearly every day-"

"Particularly two devilishly handsome students," Fred added.

"-Umbridge has been leaving professors to sort things out. She almost never leaves her office anymore."

Fred smiled a crooked grin. "It would take something..."

"Spectacular?" George offered with his own knowing smile.

"I was thinking more _sensational._ "

Harry looked between them. "Er, am I missing something?"

Fred snickered. "Not at all. We'll drag the hag out for you, don't worry."

"Give us a week or so and you'll have all the time you need." The two of them slid out from behind the statue and walked off down the hallway, George calling back, "Sit back until then, and give our hopeless brother our well-wishes!"

In less than a minute, Harry had gone from being elated by their participation, to disappointed over the time table, to baffled by their departure. "Wait!" he stumbled. "Your well-wishes for what?"

Instead of a snarky explanation, it was Harry's arrival at the Great Hall that finally revealed his lapse in thought. The enormous hall was filled with an excited student body decorated in copious amounts of red and blue clothing, noise makers, banners, and makeup. Not a soul was still in bed this morning, and before long the crowd would relocate en mass to the wooden stands down the hill.

Today, one house was going to win the Quidditch Cup.

Harry found Ron and rushed to his side. "Ron! I completely forgot, how are..."

The depressed, moping friend that Harry had come to expect was instead a healthy, beaming Ron Weasley, who sat voraciously digging into an enormous plate of eggs and sausage. He nodded at Harry's arrival and shoveled another spoonful of greasy food into his mouth. "Mpf...mornin', 'Arry."

"Wow." Harry did a double take. "You're sure in a good mood. I thought you'd be a bit more...tense?"

Harry waited for Ron to finish off a cup of juice and wipe his face off on his sleeve. "Yeah, s'pose I was," he said. "But I was thinking about it last night after practice, and I realized - I can't get any worse, can I?" He reached out, snatched a piece of toast, and bit off a corner.

"Besides..." He flicked his head further down the table with an immensely satisfied grin. " _I'm_ not the joke of the team anymore."

Harry followed his motion and found John, his head face-down on a silver plate with Angelina and Ginny engaged in hushed conversation above him. He sat there motionless, the green tips of his hair slowly dipping further into a dish of marmalade.

Before Harry could comment, bells chimed over their heads. Benches scraped on cue, and Harry and Ron stood to join the flow of students vacating the hall. Moving with the procession was simple, and Ron spent the walk to the pitch on casual, lighthearted conversation. His new optimism was certainly an improvement, yet Harry couldn't help but feel oddly guilty for John, who paced sluggishly behind them with the rest of the team.

The time came when they split between the stands and changing rooms, and Harry wished the team luck before climbing the stairs to the seats above. The platforms in front were already filled to bursting, and Harry tried to decide which row of seats would obscure his view the most and spare him the sight of his team being annihilated.

" _Psstt! Harry!_ "

He swiveled around at hearing the gruff voice and found Hagrid leaning out from one of the nearby tunnels, his scrunched posture doing little to hide his massive body. Hagrid beckoned him over, waving his hand and making urgent little grunting sounds.

Harry stepped closer. "Hagrid, what are you-"

"Hurry now, quick!" He clasped Harry on the shoulder and steered him to his side. "Good lad. Now, where's - ah! _Psst! Pssssst! Hermione! Come...here...!_ "

From out of Harry's view, Hermione appeared around the corner and was dragged by Hagrid to his side. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Harry? What's this about?"

Harry looked up at the half-giant. "Yeah, Hagrid, what _is_ this about?"

"Nothin', nothin'," he said, fidgeting with his hands and looking around nervously. "I got somethin' ter show the two a ya is all. Now, while everyone's watching the game."

Harry looked him over, noting the myriad of bruises in various colors marking his skin. "Alright, Hagrid. Show us. What is it?"

"Not here, no." He gestured toward the stairs. "It's out a bit, just a ways into the forest. You'll see, it's no trouble. No trouble at all."

"But Hagrid, we-"

Hermione's objection was lost in the first, great cheer from the crowd, and Hagrid hurriedly guided them away and out of the stadium. Happy to be out of sight of the coming disaster, Harry followed diligently as Hagrid led the two of them farther down the sloping lawns, past his cobblestone hut, and up to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Isn't this dangerous, Hagrid?" Hermione said.

"Yer with me, aren't ya?" he laughed. The gamekeeper paused at the treeline, bent down where a crossbow leaned against a trunk, and hefted it up into his arms. "This way, then."

He stepped into the overgrowth as a loud crunching sound echoed through the foliage and a flock of birds took flight in the distance.

Hermione looked alarmingly pale. "Oh dear."

* * *

"On me, same as last time!" Angelina Johnson yelled over her shoulder.

The Quaffle tucked beneath her arm, she charged down the field with Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet off to her sides while Jake and Jack Sloper brought up the rear. Jake's arm was aching from the weight of the bat, and his thighs burned from having to balance on the broom between his legs. He missed his wings terribly, and was acutely reminded of why he'd always hated riding bikes. _I swear, the dude that thought this was the best way of flying had some serious issues._

"DUCK!" Katie shouted.

A Bludger from Ravenclaw split their formation in two. Sloper, whose reflexes rivaled those of a three-legged sloth, took the enchanted boulder to the chest and spun away with his arms clenched over his ribs.

Their ranks returned to file and pressed on. The roaring crowd and blaring Sun were making Jake feel nauseous, and he tried to focus on all of the advice his team had given him. _Always keep a hand on the broom, don't choke the handle, squeeze your legs if you start to roll, keep your mouth closed or you'll get bugs in your teeth-_

One of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Davies, rocketed up through their group and knocked Johnson into a deep pitch. She hurled the Quaffle back up to Katie, who just managed to pass it off again to Alicia before being sideswiped by Bradley, another Ravenclaw Chaser.

Alicia soared ahead toward the Ravenclaw hoops with a Beater and Chaser hot on her tail. Jake found the nearest Bludger, rocketing around the field only a short distance away, and careened after it at full speed. He lifted his bat and cracked it against the Bludger, sending it flying straight at Alicia's pursuers.

"Johnson and Bell are down, and Spinnet's headed straight for the goalposts!" The Lee Jordan kid's voice reverberated throughout the stadium, hoarse from yelling for what Jake now felt must have been hours. "Samuels and Chambers have nearly got her, they're - _OOH_ _!_ "

The crowd cringed as Jake's Bludger slammed into Chambers between his shoulder blades, sending him spiraling into Samuels and throwing them both off course. Jake punched his fist into the air. _Now THAT'S what I call killing two birds with one stone!_

"Brilliant Bludger from Long, and Spinnet's in the clear!" Jordan called over the applause. "She's lining up the shot, she swerves out, Page goes for the dive, _and_ _i_ _t's good_ _! Ten points for Gryffindor!"_

A loud _DING_ tolled out over the swell of Gryffindor chants. Jake rallied with the others near the mid-line of the field as Ravenclaw retrieved the Quaffle, looking for his next Bludger. Their blue opponents grouped together and began their approach as the Gryffindor team arrayed in their defensive positions.

Johnson was the first to jet out, yelling, "Here they come!" Jake and Sloper kept near the hoops while the Chasers launched out like crimson bullets, striking into the heart of the enemy team. Katie and Johnson managed to sandwich Chambers between them when Samuels shoved Katie out of line. Johnson jabbed him away before a Bludger struck the tail of her broom and threw her into a dive.

"Ravenclaw return the favor and Johnson's out! Alicia looks to snatch the Quaffle but Bradley passes to Davies and he's on to the goals!"

Davies escaped from the scuffle and leaned low into his broom. Sloper found a Bludger and actually managed to make contact with it, but the warbling little thing curved far too wide and Davies was at the goals within seconds. Only Ron remained to bar his path.

Instead of the preemptive groans that Jake had come to expect, the red-clad spectators rose into a drumming chant.

_Weas-ley!_ _Weas-ley!_ _Weas-ley!_

With a sharp reversal, Davies faked to the leftmost hoop and chucked the Quaffle at the center. Ron agilely mirrored his movements and caught the ball with a flourish, waving it high in the air to the roar of the crowd.

_WEAS-LEY! WEAS-LEY! WEAS-LEY!_

Jake grinned and rolled his eyes. _Show off._

" _Another_ spectacular catch by Weasley!" Lee Jordan bellowed. "That leaves Gryffindor leading 170 to 20 points, incredible!"

Katie retrieved the Quaffle and signaled for them all to meet for another offensive formation. "One more and we're clear of the Snitch!" she said. "I'll take point!"

They all powered forward without hesitation, eager to secure their victory. Considering he'd started off only concerned with keeping his promise with Fred and George without drawing any attention, Jake felt overwhelmed with the euphoria of their imminent victory.

The sudden blaring of Jordan's voice made Jake's heart skip a beat. "Hang on, I think they've found it! _Yes!_ There they go, and it looks like Chang's in the lead!"

Jake swiveled his head and found the two blurs of Ginny and Cho streaking around the bottom edge of the stadium, mere inches off of the ground with a stream of dust following their wake. Cho had her arm extended toward a tiny fleck of gold, and Ginny was slowly making up the distance when her broom shuddered and the end tipped into the ground. Her flaming red hair splayed out as she tumbled to the ground, her broom bouncing away over the grass.

" _GO, GO, GO!_ " Johnson roared as Chambers and Davies both dove into their ranks. Their formation splintered and Katie rocketed forward alone, her robes flapping wildly in the wind. Jake's chest was pounding as he followed as quickly as he could.

There was a split second of a high-pitched, garbled noise, and he instinctively ducked. The Bludger grazed the tips of his hair and continued on toward Katie. She turned her head at its approach a second too late, and the Bludger smashed into her shoulder and sent the Quaffle flying. Alicia appeared from behind and grabbed it from the air, but Bradley and Samuels were only feet behind her. She ducked and swerved, but couldn't stop her pursuers from gaining on her. They slammed into both sides of her, trapping all three of them in a mangled flying heap of flailing limbs and broomsticks.

Jake watched helplessly from above. There were no Bludgers for him to hit and no teammates to help Alicia. Below, Cho was making another round around the scaffolding, her fingers practically touching the Snitch. They only had seconds left. _What do I do, what do I do..._

The mass of players shifted and Alicia appeared below, dangling upside down with the Quaffle in her hands. Still a ways from the hoops, she cocked her arm back and threw the ball with all of her might at the nearest goal.

 _It's never going to make it._ Desperate, Jake shot out towards the falling maroon ball. He lifted his feet free of his broom's metal stirrups and planted them sideways on the handle like he was riding a skateboard. The Ravenclaw Keeper Page had come out to catch the Quaffle, but squealed and covered his head as Jake got there first, his bat raised in both hands.

There wasn't time to think or breathe. Jake grit his teeth and swung.

His arms shook as he sent the Quaffle flying with a loud _THWACK._ As he fell back against his broom, Jake watched the ball soar in an arc with an unnatural lethargy. The world had fallen silent, and he waited. The Quaffle came level with a hoop and, with cartoonish grace, just barely tipped through its ring.

A loud _DING_ rang out, and at the same time Madam Hooch blew her shrill silver whistle. Cho floated near the Gryffindor goalposts, gasping and holding the caught Golden Snitch high for all to see.

Everyone looked toward the announcer's booth, where Lee Jordan was nearly in hysterics. "That was... _Bloody Hell_...Long scores ten points for Gryffindor, and Chang catches the Golden Snitch, giving Ravenclaw 150 points!"

Jake felt like his mind was floating. _So that means-_

" _THE MATCH ENDS 180 POINTS TO 170!_ _GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!"_

The eruption of cheers was deafening, and Jake wasn't completely aware of the following celebration. From students streaming the field and players hugging mid air, he couldn't process the flood of information. He vaguely recalled being hoisted with the others on the shoulders of Gryffindor House, as well as their parade-like procession back to the common room. Even the portraits on the walls of Gryffindor Tower joined in the festivity when they arrived.

Jake's elation drowned out all of his other nagging worries. New York and Stout were the farthest things from his mind, and his ecstasy only grew as Hermione and Harry appeared soon after in the entrance tunnel.

"What's all this?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Harry! Hermione!" Ron called from the center of the crowd of partying students. "We did it! _We won!_ "

Their curious expressions shifted into dumbstruck excitement. "I can't believe it!" Hermione shouted.

"Neither can we!" Fred and George called from their seats by the fireplace.

Harry drifted towards Ron while Hermione found Jake at the edge of the celebration. Her clothes were exceptionally dirty, and there were twigs and leaves stuck in her robes and entwined in her hair. She laughed and threw her arms around him, and the same swell of warmth spread over Jake's skin. Only now, his former apprehension was a long distant memory.

"This is wonderful, you'll have to tell me all about it!" She looked around and continued in a whisper, "But first we need to talk. Hagrid took Harry and I into the forest during the match, and-"

Jake eagerly gave in to impulse and leaned in. Hermione's speech cut off abruptly, and her lips melded perfectly against his. The surge of heat that he'd anticipated, however, never came, and something felt...off. Their kiss was strangely cold and distant.

Hermione pulled away and took a step back. She put a hand over her mouth in sudden understanding, but she couldn't hide the blush in her cheeks or the shock in her eyes. Jake saw then just how differently they'd envisioned their relationship. He realized he'd done something wrong.

" _Oh_ _...!"_

_Oh..._

" _OI!"_

Ron's shout pierced through the commotion and threw the room into silence. He flushed even more brilliantly than Hermione as he shoved his way through the body of students and stomped toward them. " _JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK-"_

Jake didn't hear the rest of it. Refusing to look at anyone, he kept his head down and moved to the entrance tunnel, pushing open the Fat Lady's portrait and escaping down the marble stairs. He walked without direction, wanting only to leave that common room and the people within it as far behind as possible. Maybe if he went far enough, he'd manage to leave the shame behind this time.

Ron's rage chased him down the staircase. " _That's right, you'd better run you tosspot!_ "


	29. The Double Agent

It was just past noon in the Great Hall. Overcast skies hung outside the paned windows, lighting the room from floors to rafters and silhouetting the massive hourglass that loomed where the Head Table would normally be in a gentle glow. Every fifth-year in Hogwarts sat at a desk facing the ornate figure, equally spaced out in tidy even rows and hunched over booklets and parchment like gremlins. Quills scratched ever faster as the sand spiraled upward from the bottom bell into the top of the hourglass, an ever shrinking reminder of their approaching doom.

Harry himself had taken to ignoring the ornate figure long ago. He sat in the middle of the assemblage, paused over the same essay question on goblin diplomacy for who knew how long and struggling to keep himself focused. His fingers ached, his rump was sore, and his eyes stung from days of near constant reading. A daze was falling over him until the nearby clacking of Professor Flitwick's heels made him snap upright in his chair.

Harry rubbed his eyes and flipped the page, abandoning the details of goblin history as a lost cause. He turned to the last prompt in the booklet, a question on the primary factors influencing the fall of local covens as leading bodies in the twelfth century. Harry dug his knuckles into his temple, thinking back months ago to when they'd covered the time period in class. Expanding muggle development was an obvious answer, but he was distracted from his writing by Zacharias wrapping his knuckles against his desk one spot over. Parvati was sitting behind him, and he could hear her swearing to herself with growing vulgarity.

Swallowing his frustration, Harry began to write his best attempt at an answer. He remembered a part that had to do with a rowdy group of leprechauns, or was it gnomes? Now that he thought about it, there _was_ something about a spreading plague of warts...

A thundering scrape of glass against metal cried out like nails on a chalk board. Everyone twinged with pain as the two bulbs of the hourglass spun in their casing and swapped places. Professor Flitwick shuffled forward during the commotion and waved his wand, lifting papers and feathers away from the hands of their defeated owners.

"That's time, everyone!" he called. "Quills up - yes, you too Goyle!"

Harry sighed and stood from his seat, grateful to have another test behind him. Neville still sat in front of him, slumped in his chair with his arm raised longingly toward his papers as they floated away. "I wasn't finished yet..."

Ron appeared at Harry's side and together they walked out into the entrance hall. "Rubbish, that test was. Couldn't end soon enough," he grunted. "At least it's only History of Magic, though. What's the next one again?"

"Astronomy, and it's tonight," Harry groaned. It was strange to think they were already four days into their O.W.L.s with the way the constant testing made time pass by. The wear on the students was beginning to show, however, and nearly every fifth-year looked somewhere between a nervous breakdown and a month-long coma. Even now, thinking about the next exam being only hours away made Harry want to collapse in his bed and never get up.

Ron halted mid step on the stairs between the third and fourth floors, staring into the distance and oblivious to the crowd shuffling around him. "Oh _Merlin's beard_ _."_

His stricken look was a familiar one. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Charms!" he shouted, hands clapped to his red hair in blossoming panic. "The Charms practical tomorrow, I thought _that_ was the last!"

Harry grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him up the remaining steps and off of the staircase, ignoring the sidelong glances of the passing crowd. "It's alright, Ron. The test isn't until midnight, there's still plenty of time to get caught up."

Ron was growing paler by the second. "It's been weeks," he mumbled. " _Weeks_ since I've looked at those bloody astronomy books. The constellations, the diagrams..."

"Look, worrying won't solve anything," Harry insisted. "There's nothing for it but to head up to the common room and make do with the time we've got. We'll skim through everything, skip dinner if we have to..."

"I'll have hair growing out of my ears before we cover it all." He shook his head. "Just leave me, Harry. I'm done for."

Harry was about to argue when he saw Hermione pass by up the stairs. "Ask Hermione for help! It wouldn't be the first time, and she's bound to have read everything a dozen times already-"

A sour grimace pulled at Ron's freckled cheeks and wrinkled his nose. "You go on and study with her, if you like! I won't stop you."

"Come off it," Harry said. "You're really still mad at her? Over nothing?"

"Oh, it's _nothing_ , is it?" Ron dug his hands in his pockets and slouched back to the staircase, resuming the climb to Gryffindor tower.

Harry followed after him, his patience beginning to wane. "Yes, it's nothing! One minute you're cheerful as can be over winning the Quidditch Cup, and the next you're miserable and avoiding Hermione! Just because she-"

Ron rounded on him just as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, his shoulders tensed and hands balled into fists.

" _They KISSED, Harry!_ " he bellowed. "Her and that complete _loon,_ snogging! Lips and all! Right in front of everyone, like...like..." He pointed an accusatory finger at Harry. "What if it was you, hm? If Smith or some other git was kissing Cho, right in front of everyone like that!"

Harry barely felt a twinge from the pointed jab and was surprised by his apparent lack of concern for Cho's romantic life. Still, the offensive intent wasn't lost on him. "Cho can kiss whoever she likes," he said. "Same goes for Hermione."

Ron blanched and squinted at Harry with mixed spite and dejection. He braced himself on the marble railings, leaning over edge and breathing hard through his nose like he was about to be sick.

"Besides," Harry added. "I don't think they've spoken a word to anyone since then. They're even worse off than you are, all things considered. If anything, I thought that would cheer you up a bit."

"S'pose," Ron groaned, resting his chin on the railing.

Harry fidgeted and put a hand on his back. "You know what, forget about it Ron. We've reviewed for tests and essays on our own loads of times before, right?" He watched Ron sigh and give a halfhearted shrug of his shoulders. It wasn't very encouraging, but it would have to do. "Right then," Harry affirmed. "Let's go in and get started, shall we? We'll need all the time we can get."

Ron grunted his approval and shambled over to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Graviora manent."

The portrait swung forward and the large, draped Fat Lady waved them forward. "Aren't the woes of youthful love simply enchanting?" she trilled, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Such passion sets my heart aflutter!"

"Oh stick a sock in it," Ron snapped.

At the end of the tunnel, the Gryffindor common room was near maximum occupancy. Even so, the room was held in perfect, eerie silence as the students continued their studying. Ron whispered, "You find a spot, I'll get the books."

"Right." Harry edged his way toward the far corner of the room and managed to jam two chairs against a window with a tiny side table between them. He watched Ron disappear up the dorm stairs and relaxed in his chair, resting his eyes for a precious moment. As exhausting as exams had been, Harry actually felt better than usual. His scar hadn't ached in days and his recent dreams had been pleasantly dull. Compared to the migraines that had plagued him for months, Harry's current fatigue was a drop in the bucket.

His thoughts were melting into fog when a voice brushed against his ear. "Taking a nap, Harry?"

"What the-" Harry flinched and looked blearily around at Fred's smirking face. George sat snickering in the chair across from him.

"Shouldn't you be studying for your astronomy O.W.L. tonight?" George asked.

Fred gave him a piteous look. "Looks like our little deviant's all tuckered out."

"And just when we were about to give him the good news, too," George said.

Harry rubbed his eyes and sighed. "The Chudley Cannons made it to the playoffs?"

"He really is out of it," Fred jibed to his twin. "That 'favor' you asked about? To get Professor Frogface out of her office? We were under the impression it was of some importance to you."

Harry jerked up in his chair. "You're ready for it then?" he nearly shouted. "How soon can we-"

"Keep your knickers on," George muttered, easing his hands toward the table and looking over his shoulder. "This _is_ what some might consider a sensitive conversation."

"Yeah, sorry," Harry said, realizing how many angry stares he'd earned from his outburst. He ducked his head lower. "So what's the plan? What are you going to do? How soon can I get into Umbridge's office? How much time will I get?"

"We don't want to spoil everything," Fred said. "Still want you enjoy to the festivities with the rest of the school, after all."

"It'll be tomorrow morning, right after your Charms practical," George revealed. "Should get you fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."

"Tomorrow, after Charms, twenty minutes," Harry repeated, memorizing every detail. "How will I know it's time to go?"

George chuckled. " _How will he know_ , he says."

"Reckon half of Hogsmeade will know," Fred laughed. The two stood and made their way toward the entrance tunnel. "We're off to dinner. See you tomorrow, Harry."

Harry stood for a while after the twins' departure, unsure of what to do with himself. Though the pressure of exams had managed to distract him, his final Occlumency lesson with Snape was once again at the front of his mind. Discovering the professor's dark memory, seeing his father's younger self, watching firsthand exactly why Snape was so bitter, Harry experienced it all again as if for the first time, hatred and shame included.

His head began pounding again, and Harry returned to his chair to try and collect himself. Tomorrow he'd have the chance to talk with Sirius and settle the matter once and for all, and he would just have to pacify himself until then. A glance at the clock above the fireplace told Harry he still had several hours before they would have to leave for the Astronomy Tower, and a squelching sound from his stomach reminded him that he hadn't had a thing to eat since breakfast. If he hurried he could run back down to the Great Hall, grab some dinner, and make it back with time to-

"There you are." Ron stepped between the tables and found Harry. A stack of books, papers, and parchment rolls tucked beneath each of his arms. He set each down with an ominous _thud_ on the little side table and folded his arms. "What's wrong, I miss something?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah...we're definitely skipping dinner."

* * *

_"Yeah...we're definitely skipping dinner."_

_Good,_ Jake thought, ignoring a growl from his stomach. _I'm gonna hurl if I have to eat any more of that greasy food._

_"Where do we even start with this mess?"_

_"Hand me that one there, I think-"_

"That's it," Dean growled. He shoved a book off his lap and got to his feet. "I can't concentrate like this. Constellations be damned, I'm heading down for dinner. Anyone else coming?"

Jake looked up from his cushy recliner and shook his head, discretely holding the hood of his robes over his transformed dragon ear like he were using the bundled cloth as a pillow. Dean, Seamus, Neville, and him were all mashed together in chairs by the fireplace with a mound of school material gathered between them. While the others had continued slogging through their endless studies, Jake had kept an eye on Harry and Ron from a distance. The others were so consumed by their work that they never questioned why Jake hadn't turned a page of the textbook in his lap since they'd started, or noticed him scribbling in the leather journal tucked inside it.

"I'll go, ought to 'fore I jump out the window," Seamus said.

Dean nodded. "How 'bout it, Neville?"

Of all the fifth-years, Jake was convinced Neville was suffering the most form their exams. His face had become permanently crumpled with anxiety, and he'd been as silent as Jake himself for the past two days. Even now he barely managed a shake of his head, his eyes glued to book in his hands as he flipped through the pages.

Dean and Seamus shared a look and shrugged. "We'll see about bringing something back," Dean said as they waved and left.

Jake leaned back to resume his surveillance, tugging at his bunched up clothing. _I hate these stupid bathrobes._

On their side of the room, Harry and Ron were deep in silent contemplation. Deprived of his entertainment, Jake shrunk his ear back into human form and dropped his hood, turning back to his concealed Replitome instead. Near the bottom of the page, a line of curved black letters was nearly finished drying.

**_"I take that as a 'no' then?"_ **

Jake had forgotten what he and Stout had been discussing, and was confused by the new line of writing. He skipped back and reread from the top of the page.

_**I don't care if it's only another week, Benjy. You've gotta get me outta here** _ **pronto _._**

**_"Don't be ridiculous, you still have your O.W.L.s to finish."_ **

**_In case you forgot, I'M NOT A WIZARD. Who cares!_ **

**_"The knowledge is the same regardless. It's a good learning experience."_ **

**_Me. Out. NOW, Stout._ **

**_"You seem abnormally worried, it's borderline suspicious. Anything happen that I should be aware of?"_ **

It was then that Jake had stopped lost interest, unable to write any further. No matter how badly he wanted to leave, he couldn't bring himself to divulge his humiliating attempts at romance with Stout. It was partly because he knew his reasoning was irrelevant with respect to his primary task of monitoring Harry, and partly because he already hated himself enough without having to relive the embarrassment a second time.

Conveniently, Harry's entrance into the common room and subsequent conversation with the Weasley twins had served as a suitable distraction for Jake. It then occurred to Jake that it may also do the same for Stout's impatience.

He found his quill and skipped to the next page. _**Just kids pulling pranks on Umbridge. Harry's helping so he can get in her office tomorrow or something, but no killing sprees yet.**_

More words quickly appeared below his own. _**"**_ _ **And Granger?"**_

 _ **Fine.**_ Jake was instantly annoyed with himself and wished he could erase the sloppy answer. No doubt Stout would interpret something from the rushed, messy response.

A moment passed before Stout's reply appeared. _**"Then unless the Dark Dragon himself arrives, you're to stay by Mr. Potter's side until the end. No exceptions."**_

Jake picked the Replitome up and threw it. The leather journal crashed into his group's tower of schoolwork and toppled it over to the ground in a spray of parchment and textbooks. He got up and strode toward the dormitories, remembered the last time he'd lost his Replitome, went back and dug it out of the pile of books, and then returned to climb up the tower. Neville didn't look up from his reading once.

 _I hate all the stairs_. Jake pushed into his dorm and sat down on his bed, tugging at the frayed cord of the collar around his neck. _I hate the weather, I hate this wack necklace, and I hate being stuck here._

Since the day of the Quidditch finals, Jake had successfully driven himself away from the people he'd come to Hogwarts for in the first place. Combined with Harry's unremarkable sanity and the approaching end of the semester, there was no reason that he could see to stay. Yet Jake also couldn't leave on his own without causing trouble. A dragon sighted flying away from the castle or the mysterious disappearance of a fifth-year student would hardly go unnoticed without Stout's help.

One option he still had, and which had tempted him for several days now, was to call in Professor McGonagall's favor. It'd mean letting one more wizard in on his secret, but in exchange he'd almost certainly get a one way ticket out of Scotland. Of course, that left only returning to New York and fessing up to the Dragon Council and his family.

Jake fell back on his bed and sighed. Going home was the only thing worse than staying within the cold stone walls of Hogwarts. It seemed for the moment that Stout was correct. Jake wasn't going anywhere. _Talk about being s_ _tuck between a rock and a hard place,_ he thought. _T_ _his is as lame as it gets._

The sunlight shining into the dorm was begging to fade, and Jake stayed motionless on his bed thinking of nothing in particular. His thoughts trailed off to questioning his past decisions, wondering how things might have turned out differently had he never told the truth to Hermione, or if he'd refused Dumbledore's request by the frozen lake months ago. His mind had long grown hazy and incomprehensible when he felt someone shaking his shoulder. "C'mon, get up Long!"

 _Wha?_ Jake rolled over and blinked at the candle light. Seamus moved away from his bed and tugged on his black robes.

"Hurry up already," he said impatiently. "Professor Sinistra won't care if you're late, and everyone else's already gone."

Seamus stomped his shoes on and left the dorm. As he'd claimed, Jake was now alone in the room. Clothes and belongings were strewn about like their owners had left in a hurry, and a quick look at his watch told Jake why.

 _The Astronomy O.W.L. It's almost midnight._ He jumped to his feet and checked the sky through his bedside window. The air outside was crystal clear and lit by countless stars and a single, bright moon. _Of course, the one time I want it rain. No chance the test will be postponed like this._

His same wrinkled robes from earlier already on and his bag over his shoulder, Jake raced out of Gryffindor Tower. The castle was barren at this time of night, and thankfully he ran into no traffic on his way to the Astronomy Tower. Jake reached the top of the stairs and walked out onto the ramparts to find the walkways lined with telescopes aimed at the black and blue expanse above. Nearly every device was already accompanied by a student and Jake was searching for a place when the wiry-haired Professor Sinistra bore down on him.

"Cutting it close, aren't we Mr. Long?" she scolded as she handed him a test booklet and writing materials. "Take the lens over there, we're about to begin."

Jake nodded and moved to take his place. He set his things down and was about to fiddle with the gears and levers of his telescope when he noticed Hermione was at the place just to the left of his. As if on cue, she looked over and made eye contact, and the two of them shared a moment of uncomfortable silence before they both looked away. Jake felt confused and conflicted, and chose to look out over the grounds and forests far below them rather than dwell on the first awkward interaction he'd had with Hermione in days.

"Alright everyone," Professor Sinistra called from behind him. "You have one hour to find, identify, and draw the requested cosmic bodies. You may begin!"

Paper seals snapped, pages flipped, and soon they were all turning and adjusting their telescopes in a symphony of squealing metal. The novelty of the subject had intrigued Jake when he first arrived, but the years of material he'd missed and the monotony of searching an endless abyss for very particular blobs of light had soon quenched him of any astronomical curiosity. He had been trained to appreciate the obstacles directly in front of him, not those of distant galaxies. For the sake of appearances, however, he tweaked his telescope as much as the others and filled his booklets with random shapes and sketches that could have passed as 'connect-the-dots' drawings.

He had about three fourths of his pages filled when an amber light in the fields below drew his attention. Jake leaned over the stone ledge and peered down at a group of four robed figures striding down the hills from the entrance hall. The two people in the back held torches to light their way as they walked in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

Jake placed a hand over his face. _Eyes of the dragon!_

When he looked again, the world was tinged with red but vibrant and clear. He found the torch-lit group and could now see their every detail. All had their hoods down, and Jake recognized the two in back from that day in Dumbledore's office when their Minister of Magic had tried to arrest the headmaster. Them and the third tall figure all wore the same thick clothing and ornaments of their Ministry, but the leader of the group was of another caliber entirely.

Her pink blouse and velvet bow set Jake on edge, and he had a bad feeling about the happy look on her face.

The Slytherin girl to Jake's other side had approached the ledge as well. "Who's down there?"

A few other students were starting to notice as well. Professor Sinistra announced, "Focus everyone, only ten minutes left!"

The group changed course and came to a stop outside Hagrid's hut, and Jake realized all too late their intention. Though they were nowhere near hearing distance, he could see Umbridge raise her wand with a threatening red glow. Her lips mouthed some sort of yell, and the wizards behind her raised their wands as well.

"Hey, that's Umbridge!" Someone yelled. "What are they doing?"

"Isn't that Hagrid's? another voice joined in.

"Pay attention, no talking!" Professor Sinistra said as nearly every student abandoned their exam.

Jake was growing anxious. _I can't pull out my dragon ears, too many people_ , he thought. Suddenly, a trail a light appeared as the castle doors were thrown open, and another tall black figure came charging onto the lawns. The sight of Professor McGonagall was a relief to Jake as she headed toward Umbridge's group, lifting her wand out and touching it to her neck.

Magically amplified, her voice just reached the top of their tower as she shouted, "Just _what_ do you think you are doing, Dolores? It is the middle of the night, and you bring _Aurors_ to-!"

They all watched as Umbridge turned and yelled a command. Without hesitation, four bolts of red light shot out from their wands and struck Professor McGonagall square in the chest. Her voice hitched as she was lifted off of her feet and crumpled to the ground a foot away, motionless.

Clamorous outrage spread throughout the students. "My word!" Professor Sinistra cried with disgust. "How unnecessary! Four stunning jinxes at once, they could have killed the woman!"

In seconds, Jake had ripped the training collar over his head and had his foot planted on the ledge. Prepared to lunge, he stopped as Hermione's hand gripped his arm. " _Stop_ , Jake. Don't do it!"

Tiny embers were starting to spark from his skin as he glared back at her. "Let go," he growled at her.

"I can't let you do this," she snapped.

" _Hermione!_ "

" _No!_ "

A beastly roar tore through the night. They looked back to the hut, where the front door exploded in a shower of wood and splinters. Hagrid barreled through the debris with a crossbow in his hands, a bloodhound at his heels, and charged Umbridge. Terrified, her group fired a few more stunning spells that brushed off the half giant like a light breeze. Umbridge dove aside as he slammed one auror to the ground and fired an arrow into the thigh of another. Hagrid got to his feet, whistled for his dog who was chasing the last fleeing wizard, and the two disappeared into the foliage of the Forbidden Forest.

"Five minutes!" Professor Sinistra trilled over the hollers of the students. "Come now, back to work!"

Jake felt another tug on his arm from Hermione. Reluctantly, he slid his collar back on and stepped down from the battlement. Hermione relaxed her grip and coughed, " _Eyes_ ," under her breath.

Jake returned to his telescope, closing his eyes and returning them to those of a human as he went. While the others all rushed to complete their booklets, Jake barely touched any of his things. No matter what he tried, no matter how many chances were given to him, everything just kept going downhill. Professor McGonagall was one of the last people he might have been able to trust if the he needed help, someone close, someone strong. Now she was gone too.

_And I just stood there and watched._

When Professor Sinistra called for their exams, Jake handed over his booklet and made a beeline for the stairs. He shoved his way through the crowd, trying to avoid any conversation or discussion about their transfiguration professor.

A panting voice caught up to him. "I'm sorry, Jake, this is all my fault."

 _Not now._ Jake clenched his fingers and walked faster.

Hermione matched his pace. "Please, can't we just talk for a bit?"

They'd made it through the Fat Lady's portrait and Jake was almost running to reach the stairs to the boy's dormitories. He'd opened the door when Hermione called, "You were right, you know."

Jake stopped and looked over his shoulder. Hermione was standing with her arms folded, looking just as uncomfortable as he felt. "You're mad at me. You said I'd know, remember? You were right." She folded her arms over her chest. "I'm such an idiot. Thinking back, it should have been obvious...but it never even occurred to me that-"

He held a hand up to her to stop and slipped his necklace off again. "Don't even go there, okay? Cause you know what? It's my fault, _I'm_ the stupid one for slipping like that. I mean come on, why would you ever be into a _Dragon_ like me, right?"

"Don't say such rubbish, it's got nothing to do with that!" she contested. "I like talking with you, spending time with you! I _like_ being friends, don't you? Why can't we stay like that?"

Jake looked away and grimaced. "Friends? No...being a friend hasn't been working for me lately."

She was speechless for a minute, and Jake could see the hope draining out of her. "Something else, then," she said. "Do you remember that giant we found in the forest? It's name is Grawp, and it's actually Hagrid's brother."

"So what?" Jake sighed. He already felt overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions from the day, too much so to experience any new wonder or surprise.

"Well I thought you ought to know," she answered, her concern plain to see. "It might have been why Umbridge tried to arrest him tonight, though we can't be sure. Hagrid showed him to Harry and I during the Quidditch match, and I tried to tell you about it before-"

"Yo, you really don't get it do you?" he cut her off. When she just stared at him with a puzzled look, Jake exclaimed, "I don't care, Hermione! I don't care about giants, or Quidditch, or O.W.L.s, none of it! I'm sick and tired of all this business. All I want is to get through the rest of the semester, ditch this place, and never come back! Got it?"

Instead of the anger he expected her to throw back at him, Hermione just looked sad. They stood there for a while in the wake of Jake's outburst, and he could feel the flush in his cheeks beginning to fade when the Fat Lady's portrait creaked open and voices echoed from the tunnel.

"-I'm telling you, Fang ran off with one of his legs! I saw it!" Seamus yelled. The other fifth-year Gryffindors were pouring out of the entrance tunnel, deep in loud discussion and newly rejuvenated by the scene on the castle grounds.

"Those jelly legged, gutless gits!" Ron said. "I swear, if they did anything to McGonogall I'll-"

He cut off abruptly at seeing Jake and Hermione huddled together. The others followed his look, and together they all watched the two of them with silent curiosity.

Hermione turned away and disappeared up her dormitory tower. Jake stared at the door, finding it difficult to swallow his latest ball of regret.

Lavendar leaned closer to Parvati and giggled. "Looks like someone's had a _domestic_."

* * *

Harry could feel his wand beginning to tremble in his hand. He tried to raise it a bit farther, but the shaking was threatening to break his grip entirely. "There, professor. I think...that's it."

Down the length of the empty classroom, a black grand piano hovered about six feet off of the ground. It spun slowly in the air while Professor Flitwick stood beside it with a tape measure extending itself from the floor to the bottom of its leg. The charms professor read the measurement and scribbled across his clipboard. "Alright Mr. Potter, you may lower it!"

His palms sweating, Harry let down his wand and the piano with it. A gasp of air escaped him when it finally plodded down onto the stone floor.

"Okay, last task," Professor Flitwick said. He hobbled to Harry's side and handed a small golden pocket watch to him before conjuring a goblet from thin air and filling it with water from the tip of his wand. "I would like you to make that watch waterproof, please."

Harry tried not to look too relieved. It was not uncommon for Quidditch to be played through rain or storms, and waterproofing his goggles had been one of the first little tricks he'd learned. With confidence, he dangled the watch by its chain and tapped his wand against it. " _Impervius!_ "

A tiny tremor shook the ornament. Harry handed it back to Professor Flitwick, who then swilled it around in the goblet and pulled it back out again. The watch was spotless, dry, and ticking just as before. "Not a second behind," Professor Flitwick complimented. "Very good, Mr. Potter. That concludes your practical, you may go."

"Yes, professor." Harry left the classroom and found the group of finished students lingering outside. Everyone was smiling and talking about plans now that their O.W.L.s were finished, but Harry didn't join in the revelry. He looked down the length of the hallway and listened for the sounds of celebrations, cheering, or panic he'd been waiting for. To his dismay, everything he could see or hear suggested that the day was thus far perfectly ordinary.

"Harry, over here!" Turning around, Harry saw Neville beckoning to him with Hermione by his side.

"Oh, hey guys," he called in his distraction. He had no idea how much time he'd have before Fred and George's scheme flew into full swing, and he was a ways yet from Umbridge's office. Walking over, he noticed Hermione still had a somber air about her while Neville actually looked somewhat joyful for the first time in days.

"So how'd it go for you?" Neville asked. "I turned the goose purple instead of green, and I forgot the incantation for the Summoning Charm too. But to be honest, I'm just glad we're finally done."

"I didn't do much better," Harry said. "How about you, Hermione?"

She was staring vacantly into the distance and twirling a finger through her curls. "Fine, just fine," she mumbled. "Ron just got called in, he should be finished soon."

"Er, that's good." Harry was unnerved by her despondency and was beginning to think he knew why. In the exact opposite direction of her fixated gaze, John was leaning against the wall and looking equally glum. His disinterested pout and posture were betrayed, however, by the curious looks he'd throw their way every so often. "Good thing the O.W.L.s are done," Harry said carefully. "You're looking better. How are things, between you and-?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Neville bounced on his heels like he desperately wanted to leave. "Alright," Harry said. "Just...thought I'd ask."

She returned to her silent gazing, expressionless. Resigned, Harry checked his watch again, and began to question if he'd have enough time to wait for Ron before the twins went to work. All of a sudden, crushing waves of exhaustion swept over him. His legs felt weak, and he grabbed Neville's shoulder before he collapsed entirely.

Neville latched onto him. " _Woah_ _-_ You alright Harry?"

"I'm fine," he moaned, rubbing his hand over an intense throbbing in his forehead. "I think...I'm just tired is all..."

All at once, Harry's headache, weakness, and fatigue vanished, along with all of his senses. He was enveloped in nothingness, but the more he concentrated on his murky surroundings the more he began to see a faint blue light. Cold seeped into his feet as he walked along a frigid floor, and the lights multiplied into an entire hall of glowing blue orbs. It was the same one that he had been dreaming of until a week ago, but none of his visions had ever been so clear, so real.

 _"Never,"_ a voice hacked below him. Harry looked down from the rows of metal shelves to see a man lying on his back, broken and bloodied. A mat of black hair fell around his pale face, and dark tattoos pocked the exposed portions of his chest and arms. The man twitched with pain as he lifted his head and stared at Harry with defiant eyes.

Harry could feel himself grinning. "Give it to me," he whispered.

Sirius Black snarled up at him through blood stained teeth. "You'll have to kill me."

"Oh don't worry, we will." A slender figure bent down next to Sirius. Harry watched the woman as she tilted Sirius's chin to face her aged face, elegant headdress, and dull red eyes. "But first, you will tell us where it is. One way-" she leaned his head back toward Harry, "-or another."

His eyes widened as Harry produced a wand white as bone and pointed it at his chest. He trembled. "Please...don't-"

" _Crucio!_ "

Sirius's body contorted with his screams. Tears streaked his grimy face as he gasped, " _No...stop-_ "

" _Crucio!_ " Harry watched him squirm, intoxicated by the power he held. " _CRUCIO!_ "

The lines of Sirius's face blurred and the blue fog around him was fading back into black. Harry felt as if he were rising away from the scene with the sounds of suffering dimming into the background. He tried crying out and reached out into the darkness for the man writhing in agony.

"Harry!"

His body rocked back and forth. Blinking in bright daylight, Harry raised his head and found himself sitting against a wall. Ron was kneeling in front of him and shaking him by the shoulders while Hermione, Neville, and John watched anxiously. "Look, he's waking up," Ron said. "Harry, you there? C'mon mate, say something."

A cold sweat covered Harry, and a fear gripped his chest like he'd never known before. "It's him," he gasped with a crack in his voice. "He's got him, Ron! He's got Sirius! I...I have to go!" He clambered to his feet but was kept firmly in place by Ron.

"What are you going on about?" Ron laughed. He looked around at the other students, many of whom were watching them and conversing in low whispers. "Padfoot's back at Grimmauld Place. You scared me half to death, but at least it was just a dream. Imagine, coming out of that God awful test and seeing you passed out-"

"It wasn't a dream!" Harry almost shouted. "It was real, I know it was! And he's got him, Ron, Voldemort's got Sirius!"

" _Harry!_ " Hermione hissed. She grabbed his and Ron's wrists and yanked them down the hallway and away from their observers. Neville and John followed duly behind.

"There's no time!" Harry demanded. "He'll die if I don't hurry!"

Hermione huddled them together and said with infuriating patience, "No one's going anywhere until you tell us what you saw."

"I told you! Voldemort's got Sirius and he's going to kill him if I don't-"

"Where were they," she asked. "What were they doing, who else was there? Tell us _everything_ Harry, from the beginning."

Harry wanted to yell at her. Didn't she understand what was at stake? "It was in the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Mysteries. They were in that same room I told you about before, with the orbs. Voldemort was there, and so was the woman I saw round Christmas that attacked Mr. Weasley." Harry dropped his voice lower, fighting back the rage building inside him. "They were torturing him, Hermione, trying to make him get something for them. It has to be that weapon, and they're going to kill him if we don't do something!"

"But Harry, it's like Ron said," she questioned him. "Sirius hasn't left headquarters in months. Why would he be at the Ministry of Magic?"

"How should I know?" he snapped. "They could have baited him out, or maybe it was some mission for the Order, what does it matter?"

The only person who appeared as alarmed as Harry was John, who quickly wrote out a note and handed it to Hermione. "My thoughts exactly," she said, turning back to Harry. "What if it's trap? What if Voldemort's learned about your connection and is using Sirius to goad you into leaving the castle?"

"Who cares if it is?" Harry spat. "I'm not going to sit here while he's out there being tortured!"

Ron and Hermione shared a remorseful look. Even now, he could see they had no intention of helping him. He heard what sounded like an explosion from one of the lower floors and was growing desperate when a thought occurred to him. "I'll prove it to you."

They all looked baffled. "You'll do what?" Ron asked.

"I'll prove it to you," Harry repeated. "I'll use Umbridge's fireplace and Floo for Grimmauld Place to see if Sirius is there. If he's not, it means I'm right and he's trapped at the Ministry. Then will you help me?"

None of them had a ready answer except for Neville. "Sirius. He's your godfather, right?" he said.

Harry nodded. "He's the only family I've got left."

Neville set his chin and raised his shoulders. "I'll help you, Harry."

It was bold gesture, one Harry certainly never expected from Neville. He nodded. "Thank you Neville."

Hermione's confliction was apparent. "Prove it," she insisted. "Prove he's not at Grimmauld Place, and we'll go from there. But how can we get into Umbridge's office?"

Another loud burst sounded below them, followed by flashes of color and the sound of applause. Harry broke away from the group and started running down the stairs. "No time to explain, come on!"

Harry had plotted out his course ahead of time and led the group through the castle. By the time they were nearing their destination, the corridors had become cramped with curious students. Dust fell from the ceilings with every blast, and each was louder than the last. Struggling through the masses, they were making one of their last turns when the grand staircase came into view, along with the cause of the havoc around them.

Colorful haze drifted throughout the stairs lined with students, all of whom were whooping and marveling at an immense fireworks display. Sparks danced through the air and shot about in streaks of enchanted fire. Some would burst in a shower of light before whizzing away unharmed, while others spun their tails to spell out random profanity. Everywhere Harry looked there were snaps, pops, crackles and wheezes as the charmed pyrotechnics spiraled about.

" _Wicked!_ " Ron applauded, clapping along and ducking out of the way of a passing flare. "And look, down there! It's Umbridge!"

Harry followed his guidance and sure enough found Umbridge's squat from on the ground level. She was chasing after the fireworks with Filch and a few students from her Inquisitorial Squad at her heels, all of them covered head to toe in soot. A blue spark shot out from her wand and struck a passing pinwheel, but instead of fizzling it emitted a high pitched squeal and threw out miniature copies of itself, all of which chased after Umbridge and nipped at her hair.

"Enough!" She slashed her wand out and drowned the sparklers in spouts of water. "ENOUGH! I _demand_ to know who is responsible!"

There was a rush of air and the sound of jets. Answering their summons, Fred and Gorge flew in from above on broomsticks and swooped above the crowd with bulging leather satchels strapped over their shoulders. "That would be us!" they shouted in harmony.

"YOU TWO!" Umbridge took aim at them, snarling like a rabid dog. "Get down here at once! I'll see you both _expelled_ for this! You'll never set foot in Hogwarts again!"

"Afraid we've already taken care of that for you," Fred called back. "In fact, we were just on our way out!"

George pulled another firework from his bag and tossed it into the air. It burst into a shower of violet stars that soared over the students to a thunderous applause. "You see, we've got plans _beyond_ higher education. So we've decided to leave!"

Umbridge was turning purple in the face. "You'll go _nowhere!_ "

"And for anyone who wants to sample our merchandise, come visit our shop in Diagon Alley! Any purchase of thirty galleons or more comes with a free pack of Wildfire Whizbangs!" George turned to his brother. "What do you say, Fred? Why don't we go out with a _bang_?"

Fred reached into his own bag and pulled out a round mass of packed paper the size of a bowling ball. "We always did have a flair for the dramatic."

Umbridge's eyes snapped wide open. "STOP THEM!"

Fred chucked his bomb and Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad cast a flurry of spells. They all met in midair and disappeared in an explosion of light and smoke. Amidst the haze, six streaks of dazzling sparks flared out and began circling the room, growing larger and brighter as they went. Their glimmering shapes evolved into bodies with limbs, heads, tails, and wings, and it wasn't long before Harry could look at their unique colors and identify each of the Dragons of Draco Isle.

"From our friends to yours!" George shouted, and the two of them dove straight towards Umbridge. " _This one's for McGonagall!_ "

Umbridge and her group dove wildly out of the way, and Fred and George flew past and out through the entrance hall doors. In their wake, the six dragons above them broke from their circle and dove as well, breathing torrents of blinding sparks at Umbridge's group. An uproar of cheers and hollering chased them out as they fled the hall and shook the floor beneath their feet.

Another throb of pain in his forehead reminded Harry of their purpose. "Come on!" he urged, pulling the others away and through the applauding assembly. A few minutes and hasty turns later, they arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts hall and halted outside the classroom door.

"Okay, we're here," Ron said. "What's the plan?"

"We need lookouts, people to keep an eye out for Umbridge," Harry explained. "Ron and Hermione, you go back toward the stairs. Neville and John can take the other end by the Transfiguration wing. Make sure no one comes through, make up some lie to scare everyone off, got it?"

"But Harry-"

"There's no time to argue, Hermione," he barked. "Go, and stay there until I come back out!"

Neville nodded and ran down the opposite corridor. John looked between Harry and Hermione before following after him, and Ron dragged Hermione away back toward the stairs. His heart pounding in his chest, Harry entered the classroom and sprinted toward Umbridge's office at the front of the room.

" _Alohomora!_ " Harry heard a satisfying _click_ and the office door miraculously creaked open. The inside was exactly the same as Harry remembered it, doilies, drapes, and all. The fireplace was cold and dark, and on the mantle above it sat a small gardening pot filled with shimmering dust.

Harry took a pinch of the Floo Powder and clearly intoned, "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!"

He threw the powder into the ashen brick maw and was rewarded with a spout of bright emerald flames. Though he'd only ever seen Sirius call through the Floo Network secondhand and had never attempted it himself, Harry could guess the general procedure and couldn't afford the luxury of feeling squeamish. Harry got down on his knees, sucked in a deep breath, and plunged his head into the fire.

While his knees and hands never left the floor, Harry felt his head spinning as though tumbling through a coursing river. The disorientation was nauseating, and Harry only felt worse when he suddenly appeared in the embers of a fireplace, coughing in the sweltering fumes. It was difficult to orient himself from his perspective near the ground, but he could see the cabinet-lined kitchen and long dining table of Grimmauld Place.

"Sirius!" he croaked as he struggled for breath. The aching in his knees and acute claustrophobia were helping Harry understand why Sirius so rarely used this mode of communication. "Sirius, where are you?"

There was no answer beyond the creak of the woodwork. Harry waited with every second more damning than the last until a door opened off to the side. His heart leapt into his throat. "Sirius? Sirius come here, I-!"

A frail, shriveled creature in rags sauntered around the corner, and Harry's excitement vanished. "Kreacher? Is that you?"

The old house-elf focused his beady eyes on Harry. "Harry Potter's head in the fire," he droned. "Mischievous this is. I wonder what it wants?"

"Kreacher, I need to talk to Sirius immediately!" Harry begged. "Where is he, Kreacher?"

For the first time since Harry had known the house-elf, Kreacher's face broke into a smile. "Harry Potter seeks Master Black? But the master left hours ago, to answer a summons from the Ministry. Kreacher _begged_ master not to go, but master would not listen."

" _No._ " Whatever hope Harry had conjured disappeared on the spot. "He's there, he's really there. Listen Kreacher, is anyone else from the Order there right now? I need to-"

A rapid pounding sounded behind Harry, distorted and warped. He knew at once that it had not come from Grimmauld Place and jerked his body back in panic. Once again his head traveled through a dizzying realm before he found himself sitting on the floor of Umbridge's office. The pounding was louder now and sounded like it was coming from the hallway outside until it suddenly stopped.

"That can't be good." Harry got to his feet and wiped at the soot on his clothes as he reached for the office door. He swung it open and was petrified by the sight of a manic Umbridge. She lifted her singed and dirty arm and poised her wand inches from his chin.

"Leaving so soon, Mr. Potter?"

* * *

Ink stained the tips of Jake's fingers and ran across the pages of his Replitome. He stood hunched over the book at the end of the hall where he and Neville were diverting passerby away from Harry's soon-to-be crime scene. It proved to be an easy job that Neville handled well enough on his own, allowing Jake time to discretely relay their turn of events to Stout.

 _This is it_. He flipped a page and continued scribbling out every detail as fast as he could. Stout needed to hear everything; about Harry passing out, his vision of Chang, even the Weasleys' performance. After he'd nearly given up on fulfilling his quest to finally capture his greatest enemy, the world had given him one last chance in the form of a trap intended for Harry. It wasn't a chance he was about to pass up.

"No, you can't! There's er...stink bombs that went off down there. Head round the next corner instead," Neville said, guiding away a pair of Hufflepuffs. He stepped closer to Jake and lowered his voice. "I hope Harry's alright, he's been in there for a while now. What'cha writing?"

Jake shook his head and waved him off. Shrugging, Neville resumed his post while Jake finished off his last plea.

**_Chang's there, Stout. That means the Dark Dragon will be too. It's now or never. We'll never get a shot like this again, and you can't stop them all by yourself!_ **

He stared at his mess of writing and watched for new words to appear. What was he supposed to do if Stout didn't respond soon? He could leave anyway and try to find him in London at his home or Diagon Alley. Yet even that could take too long, and their targets weren't going to politely wait around all day for them to show up. Jake heard more explosions down the hallway and saw the yellow and green firework dragons soaring along the stairs. _It took the entire Dragon Council to snuff the dude out last time. What if we're not enough?_

"Hello Neville." Luna Lovegood appeared with Ron's sister beside her. "You look quite worried. Is something wrong?"

"Luna!" Neville rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing's wrong! Actually, everything's great! How, er...how about you?"

Rolling his eyes, Jake looked back down at his Replitome and found a fresh line of Stout's sleek writing. _**"My place, now. You'd better get flying."**_

Jake smiled. _About damn time._

He stuffed the journal in his robes and turned tail, running back toward Umbridge's office. Even now, there was still one loose end he had to take care of. _Gotta lock down Potter and then I'm out of here._

With any luck Harry would find this Sirius person he was looking for and be content to stay out of the way. Then all Jake had to do was meet up with Stout, get to their Ministry, knock some bad guys down a peg, and finally go home. Jake barreled on around the corner, his eyes shut tight with the sublimity of it all. The pieces of the past few months were falling into place, and just in time for-

" _Oof_ \- 'Ey, watch where yer goin'!"

Jake smacked headlong into something tall and solid. He stumbled backward and looked up to see Malfoy's larger friend sneering down at him. Behind him, Ron was pounding on the classroom door while Umbridge and her troupe of cronies were fighting to restrain him with Hermione trapped at their sides. _Aw man..._

"Get a hold of him!" Umbridge ordered before looking over at Jake. "Mr. Long as well? Grab him too, Goyle! Malfoy, take Ms. Parkinson and check further down for others."

Goyle grabbed Jake's shoulder with a meaty hand and shoved him into the classroom with the others. Their procession filed inside and continued to the front and into Umbridge's disgustingly pink office. They were packed like sardines around the edge of the room, each held in place by one of Umbridge's lackies. Harry himself sat in a chair by Umbridge's desk with the scorched woman herself keeping him in place with devious glee.

"You stupid little boy." She brushed a finger over the ash covering his robes and eyed her fireplace. With a flick of her wand, the mantle bricks slid and rearranged until there was nothing but a flat wall. "You really thought it would be that easy to break into my office unnoticed? That I wouldn't have an alarm in place?"

"Professor Umbridge, look!" Malfoy and Parkinson pushed Neville through the doorway and followed with the Luna girl and Ron's sister in tow. Neville scowled at them, his lip split and bloody. "Longbottom was blocking the other end of the hall, and these two tried to stop us as well!"

"Good work, Draco." Umbridge collected their wands and slid them into her desk, nodding to herself. "I always knew it would come to this, that it wouldn't stop with Dumbledore. I'm sure you all thought you were being so clever."

The room was deathly silent. When no one responded, Umbridge stepped beside Harry and glared down at him in his seat. "This ends _now_. You were trying to contact Dumbledore, weren't you? Tell me where he is."

Harry stared at her wide-eyed and shook his head. "I don't know."

They all jumped as Umbridge smacked him across the face. " _Liar!_ You're lying again, Mr. Potter, and I _will not_ have it!"

 _This is bad, she's a total basketcase._ Jake looked to Hermione and found her watching him with equal alarm. He could see her desperation, the look that said they both knew he could stop her. _But I can't_ , Jake struggled. _The Ministry can't know. No matter what, they_ can't _ever know._

"I'm not lying!" Harry spat back, a welt forming on his cheek. "And even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."

Umbridge took a step back. "So that's how it is?" She stood perplexed, wringing her hands together and looking at nothing in particular. "Very well then. I suppose I have no other choice," she muttered with a grim expression.

Harry leaned back in his chair as Umbridge raised her wand and took aim at him. "You're abetting a criminal, Mr. Potter, and this is a matter of Ministry security. If you won't tell me where Dumbledore is, then I shall have to make you tell me." She adjusted her grip. "The Cruciatus Curse ought to convince you."

 _"That's illegal!"_ Hermione yelled, aghast. "To torture an underage wizard, a _student_...if the Ministry knew-! _"_

Umbridge turned her wand on Hermione. "You forget your place, Ms. Granger," she whispered, jowls quivering. "I _am_ the Ministry of Magic. But perhaps you'd rather take Mr. Potter's place?"

Parkinson shoved Hermione forward. She stumbled at first, but faced Umbridge defiantly with her arms at her sides. "You're wasting your time. I don't know anything."

Jake twitched and received a painful yank from his captor. _She wouldn't dare._

"Leave her alone!" Harry pleaded. "She doesn't know anything!"

"Ready to tell me the truth, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge asked sweetly. "No? Then let's see how you feel after I've questioned Ms. Granger here."

Hermione closed her eyes and braced herself. Jake could feel the energy boiling within him. _Hermione-_

Umbridge turned back to Hermione and raised her wand. _"_ _Cruc-"_

_"STOP!"_

* * *

Umbridge spun around at the outburst from the side of the room. "What was that, Goyle?"

Holding John near the wall with others, Goyle looked at her baffled. "I...I didn't say anything, miss."

"It's me," John said. He looked terrified and was holding a pendant of some kind in his hand. "I'm the one you want."

If the Minister himself had erupted from the fireplace in a kilt and sung the Hogwarts anthem, it still wouldn't have turned their heads like John's sudden speech. Not one of them said a thing, preferring instead to gawk with wonder at the nervous, former-mute.

"Did he just talk?" Ron wheezed. "Why's he talking?"

John looked sideways at Harry, but he was still too shocked to make a sound. Even Umbridge was stiff with silent rage for a moment before she slashed her wand toward him. "You've been hiding something from me, Mr. Long."

"Yeah, no kidding," John cringed. He seemed lost as he looked around the room and twiddled his fingers. "I, uh...well..."

He flinched as Umbridge scurried over until they were nose to nose. "Where is he?" she snarled. " _Where's Dumbledore?_ "

"Right, that...well, funny story," John teetered. "I don't really know _where_ he is, but I...uh..." A high pitched squealing drew his attention from the tip of Umbridge's wand jabbed in his face to the office window, where the pink and blue sparkler dragons were flying by and spiraling in the air. John suddenly perked up. "But I know how to find him!"

"How? Tell me at once!" Umbridge demanded.

John was deadpan. "We have to go to the Dragon Den."

"That cave by the lake?" Umbridge grimaced with disgust. "You don't honestly expect me to believe Dumbledore's been sitting in some filthy hole this entire time!"

"No, but there's something else there," John explained. "There's a...uh... _portal?_ "

Umbridge squinted at him. "A...portal?"

"Yeah, that!" John nodded, his green-tipped hair bouncing. "Dumbledore had the Dragons use their magic to cook it up, just in case he needed a quick getaway." He folded his arms and shrugged. "It'll take you wherever he went, and _I_ know how to get to it."

Harry was beyond lost, but didn't dare interrupt. Something seemed off, like he were missing something obvious. Umbridge examined John for a while before humming, "And just how do _you_ know all of this? The Dragons were already banished when you arrived."

John didn't skip a beat. "That's _why_ I'm here. Without the Dragons, someone had to be able to keep the portal working if Dumbledore left. Uncle Stout knew what was going down, so Dumble called him up and here I am. I've been keeping everything up and running, and I'm the only one who knows how to get to it." He dangled the necklace in his hand. "The guy even made me wear this Muting Charm so I couldn't blab about it."

Lips still pursed, Umbridge looked back at Harry. "And you, Potter? If not Dumbledore, then _who_ might I ask were you calling?"

Over her shoulder, John gave Harry a sly wink. It was then that his plan donned on Harry. "Er...the Dragons. John told me about the portal, and I said I'd help Dumbledore and the Dragons come back. I was trying to contact them when you came in."

"Come back?" she warbled. "Back for what?"

"What do you think?" John asked sarcastically. "Dude's gonna take his castle back."

Harry was impressed by John's taunting. Umbridge's cheeks flushed and her knuckles blanched white as she gripped her wand tighter. "The only thing Dumbledore will be getting is the deepest, darkest cell in Azkaban!" she declared. "You two!" She pointed between John and Harry. "Take me to this portal and I shall disarm it. The rest of you, keep Potter's friends here until I return."

Umbridge flicked her wand toward the door, and Harry and John led the way out of the office. Dumbstruck by their success thus far, Harry couldn't fathom what they were to do after they'd gotten out of her office, let alone if they ever made it to the Den. Students turned to watch them in passing as they walked through halls and down stairs. When they'd reached the entrance doors and the fields beyond, Harry was no closer to a plan of escaping Umbridge's clutches.

"Normally I snag a broom when I go to check on the portal," John called back to Umbridge as they trudged over the grass. "We've gotta fly there somehow."

Umbridge squinted her eyes at him. "Indeed," she said, waving her wand over her shoulder. After a moment, Harry could hear a streaking sound reverberating through the air. Three brooms came soaring through the air and eased down to float beside them. Before he could grab the nearest one, a metal chain materialized between each broom and linked them loosely together.

"Not so fast, Potter," Umbridge mocked. "You didn't think I was going to just let you fly off on your own now did you? I shall take the lead, you two get behind."

It was another slight disappointment, but Harry obeyed and climbed on the middle broom in the line. Once airborne, their flight to the Den was surprisingly exhilarating for Harry, if short. He'd almost forgotten the bliss of riding a broom after being banned from Quidditch for so long, and he was reluctant to dismount when they arrived at the rim of the cave resting above the Black Lake.

Umbridge tripped tipping her leg over her broom and wiped her hands along her ruffled skirt. "Alright then, Mr. Long. We're here. Where is this portal?"

"In here." John strode into the dark cave without hesitation. The afternoon sunlight quickly died as Harry and Umbridge followed after him, and Umbridge lit the tip of her wand to guide their way. They walked a ways into the cave, following the gentle curve of the tunnel until John came to a stop.

He turned around and beckoned them closer. "Come here and grab my hands, both of you. I washed them, I swear."

"Did you hear that?" Umbridge was bug-eyed and looking at the darkness around them skittishly. "And what has this got to do with finding the portal?"

John sighed. "Dumbledore put up protective spells that keep out anyone except me. Look, either you take my hand or we don't get to the portal, cool?"

"If you say so," Harry said. He stepped forward and took one of John's hands in his own, confused how he could possibly know so much about the Den. His sense of foreboding was growing stronger, but his curiosity was stronger still.

They both waited for Umbridge, who glared at them with distrust before offering her hand to him. John snatched her fingers and together they walked further into the tunnel. As they went, a strange tingling sensation brushed over Harry's skin like he'd walked through a curtain of feathers, yet the tunnel was completely unchanged.

John stopped again and dropped Umbridge's hand to point further into the darkness. "And there it is. See it?"

Harry squinted into the darkness. "I can't see a thing," he muttered.

Umbridge jutted her wand out, her blue light doing little to lift the inky blackness. "Neither can I. What are you talking about, Long, there's nothing- _oh!_ "

The wand light flickered, and Harry looked back to see Umbridge sitting in the dirt while John stood over her with her wand in hand. She jumped back to her feet with a look of savage fury. "How _dare_ you? You give me my wand back _this instant_ Mr. Long or I'll-!"

"You'll what?" he quipped, aiming her own wand back at her. "What're you gonna do, short stuff, take your shoes off and knock me out with your nasty toe stank? See, this is the problem with witches and wizards. You lose your toys and you're out of commission."

Harry edged his way beside John. "John, the others! Let's go!"

"Yeah yeah, chillax yo." John grabbed his arm and started walking him backwards, his other hand keeping the wand leveled at Umbridge. "Hear that, Hagzilla? I lied about the portal thing, it just sorta slipped out. Anyway, we're gonna head on outta here, so just sit tight until someone comes back to get you. Oh, and if the monsters back there find you, just scream as loud as you can. That'll get rid of them... _probably_."

"You _insolent_ child!" She looked over her shoulder with terror, her features thrown into sharp relief by the wand light. "I am Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and High Inquisitor of-"

Harry felt the ticklish wave pass over him, and Umbridge's voice cut off. He watched perplexed as she continued walking toward them, mouth wagging silently in pantomime, when suddenly she smacked against a white burst of thin air. As stunned as Harry, she tapped the barrier again, and then smacked it, and then pounded against it, each time summoning the same wall of impenetrable fog with a soft _thud_.

"I should have told her, authority really isn't my thing." John turned back to Harry. "And I was just messing about the monster thing. Pretty good, huh?"

"Come on!" Harry urged. There wasn't time to ask about the fog wall or Umbridge's fate, and the latter didn't concern him in the least. Time was not on Harry's side, and so he jogged alongside John until they reached the mouth of the cave. Harry tried picking up a broom, but was impeded by the metal chain connecting it to the other two. "Hey John, toss me Umbridge's wand."

"Sure, here." He handed the instrument over, and Harry tried not to think on the cruel things it had helped accomplish as he pointed it at the chain.

" _Relashio!_ " The chain severed with a sharp _clang_ , freeing one of the broomsticks. Harry broke the other chain as well and then chucked the wand out of the cave and into the ravine below. He waited for John to pick up his broom before kicking off of the ground and soaring back up to the castle, dodging stray fireworks as he went.

Harry flew directly to the third floor parapets, dismounted, and started sprinting back toward Umbridge's office. Almost as soon as he set off, however, he ran straight into Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna as they turned the corner in front of him.

"Harry!" Hermione threw her arms around him and looked him over. "What happened? Where are Jonathan and Umbridge?"

He brushed her off and noted the bruises and cuts they were sporting. "We're fine. Umbridge is stuck back at the cave, and John's right behind me I think. What happened to you lot?"

"We escaped, of course," Neville said. "Ron tricked Crabbe into eating some Puking Pastilles, and then Ginny elbowed Parkinson in the face, took her wand, and used a Bat Bogey Hex on the rest of them!"

"Gave Pansy a good nosebleed to boot," Ginny added proudly.

"Did you find Sirius, Harry? Was he there?" Ron asked.

Like being doused by a bucket of cold water, Harry was once again sobered by the mortal danger Sirius was in. "No, only Kreacher was there and he said that Sirius went to the Ministry hours ago." He focused specifically on Hermione. "No one in the Order can help us, and we're the only ones who know he's in danger. He'll die if we don't go!"

"Nuh-uh, no way Potter! You're staying right here!"

"Jonathan!" Hermione embraced the boy with green-tipped hair as he turned the corner and ran to their group. "Thank goodness you're here. For a second there, I thought you'd gone off on your own."

"And YOU!" Ron shouted, his cheeks blazing. "What's all this rubbish about you working with Dumbledore? And what in the name of Merlin-"

"I have to go, John." Harry insisted. "Sirius's life depends on it! I'm not going to run away from this!"

John looked off into the distance and swore to himself. "I'm almost out of time," he mumbled before grabbing Harry by the shoulders. "Listen, I got a hold of my uncle and the Dragons are on the way, Potter. We'll take care of everything, but you have to _promise_ me you won't leave the castle. I don't care what happens or what visions you get, promise me you'll stay!"

"But-"

"PROMISE me Harry!"

A surge of anger overtook Harry, and he smacked John's arms away. "I'm going, whether you like it or not."

John groaned with annoyance. "I should have just left you with Umbridge. Keep him here!" he ordered, turning on Hermione. "You know what's at stake, Hermione! You promised you'd help!"

She looked just as affronted. "You can't go either!" she argued. "Just you and Stout against all of them? That's nonsense, that's _suicide!_ "

John shook his head. "You don't get it, Hermione, I-"

"No, _you_ don't get it!" she shouted. John flinched from the scorn, but she carried on exclaiming, "You act like this is all your responsibility, like it's okay for you to throw your life away, but it's not! What about your family, your friends-"

"Hermione, I already left."

She blinked. "You...what do you mean you-"

Hermione cut off as John shimmered, turning slightly translucent for a split second. They all stared at the anomaly, but he appeared unconcerned. "Please, Hermione. Don't let Harry leave. And...sorry for being such a jerk."

With that, John faded entirely, leaving behind only a wisp of blue vapor. The silence that followed was of both awe and confusion, and Harry was again derailed as Jonathan Long melted into thin air.

Ron moaned, "Will somebody, _anybody_ , please tell me what the ruddy hell is going on?"

* * *

"And...there it is."

Jake felt a like prick along his spine like a shock of static. He was just a little stronger, a little faster, now that he had his spent chi returned to him. It also meant, however, that his timed doppelganger had expired. Now leagues away from the Scottish moors, he could only hope that he'd given his magical clone enough time to get Potter locked up and safe with the others.

The sun was starting to set. Jake looked below and saw the lights of civilization springing to life one by one over the countryside. They streaked his vision as he flew South as fast as he could, far faster than what was comfortable or sustainable. His encounter with Umbridge had soaked up too much time, and for all he knew Chang and the Dark Dragon could have already escaped. Yet there was something about the approaching London horizon that urged him forward, a feeling that told him there was still hope.

His wings were beginning to ache when he finally landed outside Stout's townhouse, transformed, and burst through the front door. "Yo Stout! You home? It's Jake!"

The well built man appeared from the kitchen looking dapper as ever. There was a gauntness to his cheeks that Jake didn't remember, however, and his eyes were sunken and red. "You certainly took your time."

"Had to deal with a frog problem," Jake said. "You ready to kick some dragon tail or what?"

Stout nodded and waved him over towards his huge fireplace. He reached into an open teapot on the mantle, grabbed a pinch of what looked like sand, and hunched down in where the wood was normally burned. "Watch closely and do as I do," he instructed, and Jake nodded in understanding.

He took a deep breath. "Ministry of Magic!"

Stout threw the sand down and was immediately consumed by towering emerald flames. Jake covered his eyes, and was surprised to see the fireplace empty once again when the fire died down.

"Oh no way, I've _gotta_ try this." Jake took a pinch of the sand, stepped over the ashes, and announced, "Ministry of Magic!" He threw the dust down, and at once felt like the floor had been pulled out from beneath him. He spun and spun in a shapeless void until he was suddenly stumbling out over a shiny lacquered floor. Stout was at his side, brushing the dirt from his clothes.

"On second thought, I'm cool with flying," Jake said, still fighting residual vertigo. They were in a cavernous hall that was lined with enormous fireplaces like the one they'd just come out of, and at the far end appeared to be a fountain and buildings of some sort. Jake couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a single person here other than the two of them. "Now, where to Benjy?"

"Follow me." He walked in the direction of the fountain, and Jake followed close behind.

"This place is _huge,_ " Jake marveled as he began to appreciate the scale of the buildings that were now obviously filled with office spaces. "You seriously work here, Stout? Seems like a pretty sweet gig."

Stout hummed, still fixated on their destination. "It suits me."

They were rounding the fountain and its golden statues when Jake asked, "Are you alright Benjy? You seem sort of...I don't know...out of it, I guess."

"Do I?" He looked back at Jake with a smile and laughed, "Well I have been working overtime lately, and _you_ certainly haven't been making things any easier."

They reached a wall lined with old-fashion elevators, complete with golden grates, levers, and ceiling handles. Stout pried one of them open and guided Jake inside. He yanked a lever and twisted a knob, and in a flash their box was jerking and gliding in every direction imaginable.

"Come on Stout, I make everything more exciting!" Jake called as he struggled to stay upright. "The real problem is how are you gonna survive when I'm not around anymore?"

"What?" Stout snapped, suddenly looking furious.

"You know, when I go home?" Jake said carefully. "This is it! We go in, capture Chang and the Dark Doofus, and I go back to the Big Apple. All I'm saying is you might start suffocating from all the boredom once I'm gone."

The elevator was creaking to a stop, and Stout had gone back to having that distant, melancholy look from before. "Right, of course," he muttered.

The golden gate slid open automatically. A cheery voice announced, " _Level Nine: Department of Mysteries._ "

They stepped out into a hallway completely made of polished black marble. Jake took the lead and was starting to feel the adrenaline pump through his veins. "I'm sure you're right, Jake. It will be difficult." Stout said. "But to be honest, I'll be better for it; better than I've been in a long time. And it's all thanks to you."

Jake laughed and looked over his shoulder, "Whoa, Benjy. The Am-Drag's pretty good, but-"

He froze in his tracks and raised his fists as hooded figures with silver masks appeared from the shadows around them. Jake stepped towards Stout as the circle of figures closed in on them. The fire inside him was burning bright, almost begging to burst from his fingertips. "Looks like these chumps are looking for trouble, Stout. Why don't you show me some of those slick skills you keep talking about?"

Stout breathed a heavy sigh. "Not this time, Jake."

A sharp blow struck the base of Jake's neck, and his world had gone dark before he even hit the ground.


	30. Masters of Death by Foulest Magic

A blue pinwheel spun overhead, making belching noises as it spat out rings of sparks. The sounds of distant cheering carried up the staircases as students celebrated on the grounds. The sparkler dragons soared outside the windows, and students were now deliberately shooting spells at the fireworks to see what new effects they could illicit. Meanwhile, the inside of the castle was abnormally quiet, vacant but for the group of students on the third floor landing.

"Well?" Ron threw his hands in the air and looked between Harry and Hermione. "No explanation for that lunatic _disintegrating_ _?_ "

Luna tilted her head. "I thought he more of evaporated."

"I didn't know he could do that," Hermione muttered. She was staring distantly at the spot where John had been only moments ago. "I should've seen this coming."

Harry was growing more frustrated by the minute. "Seen _what,_ Hermione? What's going on?"

She gave no sign of hearing him. "They'll kill them, _both_ of them. What are they thinking?"

"No good!" Ginny's voice called out as her and Neville jogged around the corner. "Umbridge's fireplace is still sealed, we can't Floo to the Ministry."

"But Harry," Neville said squeamishly. "Didn't John say he told his uncle about it before he...er...disappeared? If the Dragons are already going, shouldn't we stay like he said?"

"And what if he's lying?" Ron argued with a scowl. "I don't trust that nutter. Him and his uncle could be working with the Ministry, or You-Know-Who!"

Ginny huffed, "Wouldn't be surprising. We already know he was lying about being a mute."

"Oh grow up you two!"

They all turned at Hermione's outburst. "Excuse me?" Ron spat.

"Dumbledore's the one that brought him here, not Voldemort or the Ministry," she said, her arms crossed over her chest. "And he only lied to protect himself!"

Harry took a step closer to her. "You knew about him?" She looked away conspicuously. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Hermione shook her head, avoiding his gaze. "I figured it out a while ago. He told me everything, but only after I promised to keep it a secret."

"Figured it out?" Harry repeated. "Figured out what? And where did John go, what are he and that Stout guy doing? He said ' _We'll_ take care of everything', but who's 'we'?"

She bit her lip and struggled visibly, still refusing to look him in the eye. "I...I can't tell you. I promised John I wouldn't. I'm sorry, Harry."

"But you believe John?" Ginny interjected, impatient. "Do you think he meant it? About being able to save Sirius?"

"We all saw how well the Dragons can fight," Neville said. "Maybe they _can_ stop You-Know-Who!"

Hermione still looked uncomfortable. "They'll go, but they won't be the only ones." She turned on Harry. "The woman in your visions, Harry. She's with the Dark Dragon, and I think they're in league with Voldemort. If they're at the Ministry too-"

"The Dark Dragon?" Ron sputtered. "You mean _that_ Dark Dragon? Tell me you're bloody joking?!"

Ginny looked between them. "Wait, what's a Dark Dragon?"

"He's the one who attacked Hogsmeade," Harry answered, another wave of panic standing his hair on end. He was suddenly reminded of the demons of smoke circling the sky while walls of flame trapped them in all directions. "You knew she was with the Dark Dragon? How?!"

She rolled her eyes. _"I already told you, I can't tell you!"_

"They won't stand a snowball's chance," Ron said. He looked between them, his face growing pale. "Remember what Jake showed us, in Myrtle's bathroom? That Dragon was unstoppable, and he didn't have wizards helping him then."

Harry felt sick. He turned back around. "Hermione, we _have_ to-"

"I know." She looked at him grimly. "So how are we getting to London?"

He shut his eyes tight with thought and raked his fingers through this hair, but Harry was at a loss. "Haven't got a clue," he admitted. He turned to the rest of their group. "Any ideas?"

They all shared uncertain looks and contemplated in silence. The sound of fireworks bursting outside punctuated the quiet atmosphere, and Harry's nerves were reaching their limit when Luna gazed at them dreamily and spoke up. "We could fly, of course."

Hermione sighed. "We haven't got enough brooms, Luna. There's the two Harry and John rode back, and Ron ought to have one in his dorm, but-"

"That's fine," Harry said. "It'll be too dangerous for you lot anyway. I'll go and-"

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Oh don't be stupid Harry. You'd only be helping them by going alone."

"You can't get rid of us that easy, mate," Ron added. "We're in this together, though it'll take us a while if we're riding two people to a broom."

"We may not have enough brooms," Luna hummed. "But there are plenty of Thestrals!"

* * *

It was dark, musty, and every part of Jake ached.

"Ungh...where am I?"

He sat up to the crinkling of glass. Looking at his feet, Jake found the floor all around him covered in reflective silver shards. They surrounded him from where he sat in the middle of an empty, bleak room, and filled him with an eerie sense of familiarity. Round wooden frames stood arranged in a circle around him, each gaping and studded on the inside with more reflective fragments.

Jake grabbed one of the larger mirror pieces and turned it in his hands as he stood. "Hold up. I've been here before..."

At his touch, the surface rippled with dark waves and revealed a scene of a magical marketplace. Stalls and stores lined a cobbled street, and in the middle of it Jake stood atop a troll with an angry snarl. He held a metal pole in his hands and was pressing it to the troll's chest, twisting it into the creature's skin as he howled in pain.

Voices whispered, _"Liar! Liar! Liar!"_

"AH!" Jake flung the shard across the room. He watched it shatter against the wall, his heart pounding in his throat. "What the...Man, forget this. I'm getting outta here!"

The room had only four walls, and none had any windows or doors. There were no holes in the ceiling or floor, and no tools for Jake to use besides the vacant frames and the mess of mirror fragments around him.

"Fine," he panted. "I'll make my own way out. Dragon UP!"

Nothing happened. Jake stared has his fleshy human hands in desperation. His foot nudged another glass shard on the floor below, and it rippled to life to show him perched on the Astronomy Tower at night. McGonagall was lying in the fields below, paralyzed and at the mercy of her attackers. Jake watched on from the parapets with the other students, motionless.

_"Coward! Coward! Coward!"_

"Dragon UP! C'mon, DRAGON UP!"

Fear was beginning to eat away at him. It wasn't that he was tired, or that he was being blocked by his training collar. Jake just felt empty. There was no fire within him, no burning energy to give him wings or scales. He was completely powerless.

Another shard rippled with black waves, and then another, and another. Life spread from one piece to the next like a virus, and Jake found himself encircled in reflections of his own past. They drowned out his senses, impossible to ignore even when he shut his eyes and threw his hands over his ears. In one he was at the bottom of his fire escape, leaving his home with Dumbledore. In another he was pummeling the dummy in the Room of Requirement. There were flashes of him with Haley and Nerk one second, and the next he was walking alone through the abandoned Dragon's Den.

"STOP IT!" Jake kicked aside the glass and charged at one of the walls. He punched and kicked at it without leaving so much as a scratch. Even a swing with one of the broken mirror frames left the grimy wallpaper untarnished. "LET ME OUT!" he yelled between swings. "LET - ME - OUT!"

All the while, the memories played on. He was being humiliated by Umbridge, refusing to send a letter to his family, listening to gossip and whispers about him, kissing Hermione. With each new vision, the voices grew louder and louder. _"TRAITOR! WEAKLING! FREAK! ALONE!"_

The frame crumbled to pieces, and Jake fell to his knees. He clawed his fingers through his hair.

" _Let me out_ _,"_ he begged over the unbearable clamor. Wetness trickled down his cheeks. "Please...help me...I can't take it..."

_"Jake."_

The room fell silent. Light shined along the ground from the opposite side of the room where a door had appeared. Jake couldn't bear to look up as he heard the sound of feet shuffling over the glass.

"It's all my fault," he sobbed. "Catching Chang, making things right...I couldn't do it. _Why couldn't I do it?_ "

The stranger stopped in front of Jake and bent down. They put a hand on his cheek and raised Jake's head to face their own. "Let me help."

It was the last person he expected to see, and the sight brought an unexpected peace to Jake. He smiled and wiped his nose. "It's too late, Gramps. I'm all out of juice, and they'll be back any minute. Just get out while you can."

Lao Shi squinted at him. "Where are we?"

Jake frowned. "What do you mean? It's the wizards' Ministry or whatever. Chang was here with that Volde-guy, so Stout and me came to grab her, but..." Another lump was stuck in his throat, and Jake swallowed hard against it. "They got Benjy too, Gramps. Leave me, go find him. I'll just slow you down."

"Listen very carefully to me, Jake." Lao Shi leaned in closer, scowling intensely. "You must do two things for me. First, you must promise that you won't give up. No matter what."

Jake croaked, "G, we don't have time for-"

"And second." His grandfather lifted one his hands up, palm flat and fingers straight. "You must _wake up!_ "

His arm snapped out. Lao Shi smacked Jake hard, and everything vanished back into darkness.

* * *

"Look, they're here!"

Luna pointed to a gap in the trunks and Harry saw a bony horse head meld into the shadows. He crept toward the rustling bushes and broke through to a cleared patch of forest turf. Several skeletal horses with opalescent eyes stood about, grazing on the grasses beneath them.

Neville stepped forward. "There's so many. But how do we fly with them?"

"From what I've read, we ought to be able to just tell them where we need to go and they'll listen." Hermione scanned the clearing, groaning with displeasure. "You're sure they're here? I can't see a thing, how are we supposed to ride them?"

"We'll go in pairs, one person who can see them and one who can't," Harry explained. He approached the nearest Thestral and offered his hand. The creature sniffed it with mild interest before returning to its meal. "Come on Hermione, you ride with me. I'll help you up."

She approached him cautiously with her hands extended. Harry took them and placed them on the Thestral's sides, and together helped her climb over the creature's bony back. Harry followed up while the others paired off and found their own mounts. "Hold onto me and don't let go."

Her arms linked tight over his stomach. "I shouldn't have complained about being carried," she said.

"What was that?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

Ginny was aboard her horse and clasped to Luna with her eyes shut tight, and Ron was seated behind Neville looking even queasier.

"Everyone ready?" Harry called, and they all nodded back to him. He grimaced. "Here goes nothing, then."

Harry leaned forward next to Thestral's head. "Take us to the Ministry of Magic, please. Er, that's in London."

The Thestral raised its head and looked around for a bit, not moving an inch. Just when Harry was considering repeating his request, the creature's wings unfurled and it launched into the air with incredible speed. Hermione yelped on takeoff, her grip doubling and crushing Harry's insides, and similar cries of surprise from behind told him the others were following as well.

Any fears Harry had about the length of their trip had been lost to the wind howling in his ears. While the Thestral flapped its wings effortlessly, they soared through the afternoon sky and left the school far behind. In only minutes they had lost sight of Hogwarts, the Black Lake, and Hogsmeade, and they sped over the horizon faster than any car or train.

"I really prefer _seeing_ what I'm flying on!" Ginny yelled over the breeze.

" _I_ prefer not freezing to death!" Ron answered back.

Harry held tight to the neck of their Thestral and did his best not to think about their destination. He would be lying if he said he wasn't the slightest bit excited by the prospect of seeing Sirius and possibly the Dragons of Draco Isle again, but the dire circumstances of their meeting had him chilled to the bone. The strength of Voldemort and the Dark Dragon together was difficult to fathom, and it would only grow worse if Voldemort found whatever 'weapon' he was after. The thought of never seeing his godfather again, however, was what terrified Harry the most.

It felt like an hour or so had passed when dusk arrived and the world transitioned to darkness. Harry looked at each new group of city lights that appeared with hope as they flew on, and he knew right away that they were nearing the end of their journey when a glare of lights like a new rising sun appeared in the distance. The Thestral must have been thinking the same as it angled itself and started its slow descent.

"I think we're almost there!" Harry shouted into the black night.

No one shouted back, but the sound of beating wings meant their group was still together. They sunk lower and lower, passing between buildings and over streets, until the Thestral finally landed in a dirty back alley and trotted to a stop.

Harry slid off and helped Hermione down while the others landed behind them. The alley was shrouded and wet, lit only by the dim streetlight and passing traffic at the end.

"I don't recognize this place." Hermione said.

"I think...there!" Harry walked down the alley to where an antiquated phone booth with chipped paint was nestled between a dumpster and a rain gutter. He wrenched the door open and waved to others. "Over here, get in!"

Hermione stepped inside, and the others followed with confused looks. Harry squeezed in at the end and pulled the door shut behind them. They were packed in tight with knees and elbows digging in every which way.

"What in blazes are we in here for?" Ron said.

"It's the visitor's entrance, your dad brought me through here for my trial." Harry stood on his toes but still couldn't see a thing between them all. "Who's by the receiver?"

"I am, I think. This metal thing, right?" Ginny answered.

"That's it, dial 6-2-4-4-2!"

Harry listened to the rotary click and whir, and then a female voice spoke above them. _"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, visitor's entrance. Please remain still while the box is in motion."_

The floor jerked underneath them, and through the window Harry could see them slowly slipping into the ground while the telephone booth remained in place. He watched the Thestrals lapping at pools in the alley until they drifted completely out of sight. Darkness swallowed them, and soon after light appeared at their feet. They descended lower and came to a stop in a cavernous hall lined by fireplaces.

 _"Main Level: Atrium."_ The door slid open and they spilled out onto the wooden floors. _"Watch your step, and enjoy your visit to the Ministry of Magic."_

Harry slipped his wand from his pocket and searched the Atrium. He found the elevators beyond the Fountain of Magical Brethren, but was unnerved by the emptiness of the place. Even at this hour he thought there would've been a few employees or guards.

Harry steeled himself. "It's this way, come on."

They all followed Harry toward the offices at the end of the hall. They passed the fountain with golden statues of wizards and magical creatures poised proudly together, the irony leaving a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. He quickened his pace, leading them all to the rotunda lined with boxes enclosed in golden grills.

He reached for the nearest grate and pulled it open for the others. Luna examined the interior. "They seem to really like elevators."

"At least this one's bigger," Ron said. "Hope you know how to work this one too, Harry."

"Er..." Harry shut the gate and found the levers and buttons to operate the machinery. This contraption was much more complex, however; a far departure from remembering a phone number.

Hermione let out an impatient sigh. "The Department of Mysteries? Er, please?"

Knobs spun, the lever cranked, and they all stumbled as the compartment flew into motion. Harry latched onto a hanging handhold and looked back at her. "Hermione, how...?"

"Mother always said there wasn't a place in the world asking nicely couldn't take you," she shrugged. They shuddered as the box jerked in a new direction. "Though I don't really think she meant it this literally."

Metal ground against metal as they slowed to a stop. The grate slid open, and the same woman's voice returned. _"Level Nine: Department of Mysteries."_

Harry was the first out of the elevator. The ebony hallway before them was unchanged from his disciplinary trial, and at the far end was an imposing black door. It was identical to the one from his dreams, as was his urge to throw it open and explore the rooms beyond. He strode boldly down the hall and was soon hovering his hand over the silver knob.

"Wands out." He gripped the knob, his hands clammy over the cold metal. "This is it. Be ready for anything."

The others nodded back to him, and Harry turned the knob. The door brushed open without a sound, and Harry led them in just as quietly.

They came into a dark, round room. It was completely empty except for the dozen or so doors that lined its perimeter. Each was identical to the one they'd just entered through, down to the handle and hinges.

Neville stood beside Harry with his wand raised. "What now, Harry?"

"This way, I think." Harry walked toward the door across from them at the opposite end of the room. "In my dreams, I always went straight and-"

The door they'd entered through slammed shut behind them. They all watched from the center of the room as the walls began to spin around them, the doors mingling into a blurred streak. Just as soon as they'd sprung to life, the walls again came to a halt.

Harry looked at the ring of doors, realizing they were now stranded without direction. "This is new."

" _Lumos!_ " Ron raised his lit wand toward the walls. "They all look the same. How do we tell which is the right one?"

"We don't." Harry hurried and grabbed the handle of the nearest door. Cracking it open, he found another hallway filled with office desks and filing cabinets. "We're looking for a room with golden light," he said over his shoulder. "That's the next room, keep checking doors until we find it!"

"Wait Harry!" Hermione stopped him from closing his door and pointed her wand at its black surface. " _Flagrate!_ "

Fire hung in the air from the end of her wand, and she traced a blazing 'X' over the door. She pulled the door closed and waited. "Hopefully this will help if - yes, there it is!"

On command, the walls once again spun like they were on a carousal, only now there was a bright red spot imposed on the black blur of the doors. Once they'd come to a stop again, the door Harry had just opened was still marked with Hermione's sign.

"You're a genius, Hermione," Harry complimented, reaching for the next door. They searched in this manner, making their way around the ring of passages and marking their attempts as they went. The second door had led to what looked like a planetarium, the third to some form of laboratory, and the fourth was refusing to open at all when Ginny called out.

"Harry!"

He turned to see her silhouetted in bright light from another door she'd just opened. She pointed at the glittering hallway beyond. "This look right?"

"That's it!" He ran forward and waved for the others to follow. "It's through here, come on!"

They hurried through the blinding hallway, past glass vases and fixtures filled with yellow sand. A strange air filled the room and made Harry's mind feel fuzzy, but he was too focused on the next door at the end of the hall to pay it any mind. He pushed through into the next room, and the others bumped into him as he came to a stop just past the breach.

The door slammed shut behind them.

"We're here."

Harry stared at the cavernous room. Just as he'd dreamed, metal shelves filled with glowing orbs stretched out in endless rows and reached toward a ceiling lost in darkness. He lit the end of his wand as well and raised it high, fighting his building trepidation and walking into the bleak labyrinth.

Their footsteps echoed into what was otherwise an unsettling silence. Harry scanned the darkness as they passed row after row of shelves, searching for the signs of a struggle. Ron waved his light over the orbs as they passed. "What are these things?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "They've got some kind of labels on them, I think."

A gap appeared ahead, and Harry sped forward. They reached a crossing in the shelves with another path that ran perpendicular to their own, and Harry recognized the scene as where Sirius had been writhing on the ground beneath Voldemort's torture. Yet now there was nothing; no blood on the floors, no fallen orbs or shelves, nothing.

"It was here." He shined his light on the surrounding area, finding only more orbs. "This is where they had Sirius, I know it is! Why isn't he here?"

Hermione stepped closer to him, a concerned look on her face. "Harry-"

"I know what I saw!" he shouted. The others watched him expectantly, but he was lost. It had made sense, he was _certain_ they would find Sirius here, so why wasn't he? "Voldemort was using him to get his weapon, and he wasn't at Grimmauld Place! He _has_ to be here!"

Ron shrugged. "What about the Dragons? What if they already rescued him, or maybe Voldemort got what he wanted and left?"

"But there's nothing, Ron," Hermione argued. "We'd be able to tell if there was a fight, or if the Dragons had been here, but nothing's been touched!"

Harry was about to spit back at them when Neville called out from the side. He was standing by the nearest shelf and staring at a group of orbs. "Hey Harry, you might want to see this."

Hopeful, Harry rushed to his side. "What is it, Neville?"

"This one, here." He pointed to one of the soft blue spheres. "The tag has your name on it."

"My name?" Harry followed his gaze and found the yellowed slip of paper beside the orb. Most of the writing was slanted, fading, and included only initials and numbers. Yet at the very bottom written in the hurried script was indeed his name, _Harry James Potter._

Harry looked at the orb and the swirling fog within it. He felt a longing sensation within him and raised his hand to the orb, his fingers brushing over the unexpectedly warm glass. It fit snugly in his hand, and he lifted it closer toward him.

Neville admired it beside him. "What do you think it is?"

As Harry watched, the shapeless clouds tumbled and shifted into mesmerizing shapes. There were eyes, lips, and he could have sworn he could hear the smallest of whispers. If he could only understand the words, see the images...

A much clearer voice drawled behind him. "Very good, Potter. Now hand the orb to me, nice and slowly."

Harry swung around, clutching the orb to his chest. From the darkness of the far shelves, a figure in pitch black robes and a silver mask stepped into the light of their wands. He paused a few shelves away and held his hand out toward Harry.

The man flicked his fingers. "Quickly now, before someone gets hurt."

To Harry's horror, more silver masks appeared all around them. Harry and the others slid back-to-back in a tight group as the figures approached from each of the paths between the shelves. They stopped in a circle aligned with the first of their number, leaving Harry's group no avenue of escape.

A cold sweat broke over Harry as he faced the beckoning man. He knew the owner's voice, and it only worsened his fears. "Sirius Black, he was here. Where is he, Malfoy?"

The figure hummed to himself. "It seems you are not so dull after all." He waved his hand over his face, and his silver mask melted away to reveal the long blonde hair and pointed face of Lucius Malfoy. "Yet you can be so easily manipulated by nothing more than a childish dream."

Harry could feel his fingers trembling. "You're lying."

"Is he going to cry now?"

The patronizing whimper was followed by a woman breaking through Lucius's circle. A dark tattered dress clung to her thin body, and her gaunt face was framed by a mess of haggard black curls. Red lips pulled over crooked yellow teeth as she smiled and taunted, "Wee baby Potter has a nightmare and brings his friends to the Dark Lord's trap."

"I know you." Neville aimed his wand at the woman. "Bellatrix Lestrange. You're the one who tortured my parents."

She cackled and stabbed her wand at him. "And ickle Longbottom too! Miss mummy and daddy? I can put you in St. Mongo's with them, if you like."

"Careful now, Bella, we wouldn't want any accidents." Lucius took a step closer to Harry. "I won't ask again, Potter. Hand over the orb."

Harry tightened his grip over the dusty glass. For the moment they were being passive and he could think of no plan other than distracting them for as long as possible. "Why, is it important? What does Voldemort want with-?"

" _Stupefy!_ "

" _Protego!_ "

Hermione's quick shield spell deflected the bolt of red light, which struck a row of orbs and sent them flying. They shattered on the ground, and glowing blue smoke wafted out while disembodied voices emanated from the remains. Their speeches mixed and drowned out one another in a blaring cacophony, and a thought occurred to Harry.

" _The orbs,_ " he whispered, nudging Hermione. " _We'll break them and run, tell the others-_ "

Bellatrix snarled at Harry, her eyes wide like a rabid dog. "You _dare_ speak his name? You _dare_ utter a word with your _FILTHY_ half-blood tongue?!"

"CONTROL yourself Bellatrix!" Lucius roared, grabbing her wrist and stepping in front of her. "If anything happens to the prophecy-"

"You mean this?" Harry nodded to the orb in his hand. "So it's a prophecy? Prophecy of what?"

Bellatrix threw off Lucius's hand and stepped around him. "Enough chit-chat, let's just take it!"

Harry raised the orb. "Not so fast. One more step and I'll break it."

Bellatrix froze. She squinted at him, but Lucius's tone was again soothingly calm. "Let's not be hasty. Break that orb and you'll never know the truth."

"Truth?" Harry turned his wand in his hand. "What truth?"

Lucius smiled. "The truth about _you_ , of course. About your connection to the Dark Lord. All these years of suffering, all of the loss. Haven't you ever wondered _why?_ "

Neville stepped on his foot. _"Say when, Harry!"_ he whispered.

Lucius stepped even closer. "The night your mother and father died, the dreams, your scar, I can tell you _everything_."

Harry could back up no further. They were all crammed as close as possible, and the encroaching ring of black robes was mere feet away. They were out of room, time, and options.

"All you have to do-" Lucius reached out toward Harry, "-is hand me the prophecy, and-"

"NOW!"

Six voices yelled out. " _REDUCTO!_ "

Jets of white light flew out in every direction and tore through the rows of glass spheres. The erupting shelves repelled the Death Eaters and surrounded Harry and the others in a nebulous cloud of chanting voices.

"BACK TO THE DOOR, RUN! _STUPEFY!_ "

One of the masked Death Eaters fell over paralyzed in front of Harry. He pushed the others along down the aisle and followed behind them as they sprinted away from the smoke and commotion.

Ron was panting at the head of their charge. "Where's the door? I don't-"

" _Protego!_ " A red blast burned over Ginny's shield charm, and she took aim at the approaching figure. " _Expulso!_ "

The shock wave threw the Death Eater into the shelf behind him, which teetered before collapsing on top of the figure in a mess of glass and bent metal. There were more shouts and calls a few rows away, and they were growing louder with the sound of pounding footsteps.

Hermione grabbed Harry's shoulder. "I see the door, this way!"

A loud _CRACK_ rocked the shelf beside Harry. He ducked and shoved Hermione ahead. "GO, HURRY!"

" _GET THEM!_ "

More explosions and blasts chased after them as they ran toward the distant door, and Harry collapsed a few more shelves as they fled for good measure. His lungs were burning by the time they reached the exit at last, and he was the last back inside the hallway of glowing yellow light.

Hermione slammed the door shut behind him and pointed her wand at it. " _Colloportus!_ "

There was the sound of straining wood, but Harry wasn't prepared to stay and see how Hermione's Locking Charm performed against trained witches and wizards. He slid the orb still clutched in his hand into one of his robe pockets and ran ahead of the others down the hallway.

He pried the next door open and waved them ahead. "We've got to get to the lifts, come on!"

Luna went through first and soon after called back. "There's a problem, Harry!"

The locked door began to shake with ferocious pounding. Terrified, Harry slid out last and pulled the door closed before pointing his wand at the handle. " _Colloportus!_ "

Ron's voice had climbed an octave. "Harry!"

"What!?"

He knew the problem as soon as he turned around. The burning red 'X' marks that Hermione had emblazoned the maze of doors with to mark their progress had all vanished. They were once again surrounded by a circle of perfectly identical doorways.

The walls came to life and spun in a blur, and then slowed to a stop looking completely unchanged. Neville turned on point and clamped his hands over his head. "We don't know where to go! What if we choose the wrong one?"

"W-we'll have to try them all again," Ginny stuttered. "See where they go, one at a time until we find it!"

There was a smashing sound like splintering wood, and a crash of footsteps from the door across from Harry. Lucius's voice echoed, muffled through the walls, " _Get that door open! Avery and Rookwood, you go through the department over. Macnair, Mulciber, to the left!_ "

"There's no time." Harry swung back around and surveyed the doors before sprinting toward one at random and throwing it open. If there were ever a time for luck or good fortune to shine on him, it was now. "EVERYBODY IN!"

* * *

"... _Hagh!_ "

Jake gasped and his eyes snapped open. He panted as he knelt in the darkness, his joints aching and his shirt damp with sweat. Though he felt no pain, there was a strange twinge lingering over his cheek. The last thing he remembered was being trapped in a room of broken mirrors, but where were the glass shards, the bent frames and incessant voices?

_You must wake up!_

"Gramps!"

Jake jerked up, but could barely move. His limbs felt numb and lifeless, and he turned to see his wrists bound behind his back by thick strands of rope. His skin burned where they touched him, and a pulsing sensation ran the length of his arms and down to the ropes. "What the..."

"Can you hear them, Jake?"

The voice echoed above Jake and immediately lifted his spirits. Fighting his lethargy, he raised his head and found the high arching dome of the stadium-like room. Light from the ceiling shined down on tiers of stone spectator seats, and in the center of their circle was a dirt pit. Jake was on his knees at the base of a hill or mound near the center, on top of which leaned an ancient stone arch.

The structure was empty but for a translucent, ghostly film. Stout stood beside it in his human form, his back to Jake as he ran a hand along the edge of the arch.

Jake was dumbstruck. "Benjy? Is that you?"

"They're so close. Here, right in front of me." Stout brushed his fingers over the crumbling edifice again. His voice was distant. "I could almost touch them."

Jake felt even weaker. It took everything he had not to slump to the ground. "Stout...help," he breathed. "We gotta bounce. The rope..."

"It's sphinx hair, yes." Stout turned away from the arch and stepped down the hill toward Jake. His face was flat, his demeanor returned to that state of emptiness he could so readily conjure. "And quite a bit more of it than you're used to."

The pulsing in Jake's arms was growing stronger, and the numbness was spreading to his chest. If there was any spark of his Dragon chi left in him, he could not feel it. "Take it off... _hurry_ -"

"Mm, no." Stout squatted in front of him and crossed his arms over his knees. "My apologies, Jake, but that would be counterproductive."

"Counter-? _AGH!"_ A spasm thumped through Jake's chest. He doubled over and struggled to breathe, still baffled by his surroundings. The room they were in, the moment he'd blacked out, none of it made sense. "The Death Eaters...What happened? Where are they?"

Sighing, Stout took out a cloth and started wiping the lenses of his glasses. He kept looking over his shoulder at the archway. "Oh they're here. Everyone's here."

"Quit playin' me...we don't have time!" Jake wheezed. "They'll find us...and Chang...we have to go!"

Stout looked up as laughter broke out behind Jake. Suddenly, slender fingers dug into Jake's hair and yanked his head back, and Jake found himself staring into the red glowing eyes of ex-councilor Chang.

Her headdress stuck out as she grinned down at him. "You won't be going anywhere, American Dragon. After all, we have so much _catching up_ to do."

With a shove, she threw him to the ground. Jake's head hit the dirt hard, his skull bursting with pain. He grunted and rolled to his side, powerless to lift himself.

Jake looked to Stout. "What's...going on?"

Stout straightened up and stared down at him, replacing his glasses and tucking away the handkerchief. "I think you know the answer to that, Jake."

Jake looked between the two of them for a moment, his mind refusing to recognize what now seemed so obvious. " _You_ knocked me out?"

"Oh he did much more than that," Chang cackled. "Go on, Benjamin. We have time yet, tell the American Dragon about all of your hard work."

Stout glared sideways at the woman with disdain. "Gloating on the precipice of victory? Seems in poor taste."

"What's she...talking about, Benjy?"

Sighing, Stout reached into his coat jacket and pulled out a small leather-bound book, identical to the one he'd given Jake. "The Replitomes? We needed a steady source of information on Mr. Potter. I've been relaying all of your updates to the Dark Dragon and the Death Eaters."

Jake thought back to his first encounter with Firenze, the warning he'd tried to give him. "The shade demons in the forest...the spy...it was never the centaurs..."

"It was me. Or, more accurately, _you._ " Stout tucked the journal away and started to pace, his voice growing louder with each step. "I gave you a laughably insecure Silencing Charm, I wrote to you with intentionally incriminating messages, I constantly drove you toward Potter and his friends, hell, it was _I_ who brokered your return to Hogwarts with Dumbledore in the first place!"

He paused and shook his head. "And for all of your faults, Jacob, I must say: you played your part _beautifully._ "

"No. _No._ " Jake craned his neck to look at Chang, his cheek scraping against the gravel. " _You..._ What did you do to him?"

"What did _I_ do?" Chang laughed aloud. "I did him a kindness! I gave him a chance for _revenge_."

She climbed the mound and stood before the haunting archway, raising her hands before it in praise. Her voice carried throughout the cavern. "My greatest artifact, stolen from me all those years ago. A gateway to the realm of the unliving, a font of limitless, forbidden magic! And here it sits, collecting dust." Chang growled aloud. " _Wizards_. They squabble over politics and parlor tricks. They know nothing of _true_ power."

"Speaking of which, it's time you held up your end of the bargain." Stout scowled up at the woman and jabbed a finger at Jake. "I brought you the American Dragon, as promised. Now _bring them back_."

The glow in Chang's eyes pulsed brighter as she turned back to him with a smirk. "Patience. He will prove most useful should we need more visions to sway the Boy Who Lived. Once Voldemort has claimed the boy, you shall have your prize. But first, I must regain my true form."

"True form?" Jake chuckled. "What...the Dark Dragon promise to make you even uglier?"

"Imbecile. Have you not realized?" Chang threw her arms wide with triumph. "I AM the Dark Dragon, free of that wretched prison of a temple!"

Jake looked her up and down. "Dawg...the Dark Dragon I remember did _not_ have those curves."

"This?" Chang gestured to her body with a look of disgust. "A temporary inconvenience. When the wizards came searching for my power, they could not free me entirely. My soul, however..." She chuckled to herself. "Binding a soul to a body, they could do, in exchange for catching one wizard brat. Chang of course was all too willing to serve, but now I shall be restored in full. I need only this artifact," she sneered down at Jake, "and the chi of a _Dragon_. Who better to use than the one who imprisoned me?"

"What, that's it? And you waited...just for me?" Jake's squinted at the woman. "I'm so...flattered, yo."

Chang snickered. "And it gets better! Once you're through, I'll finish what I started centuries ago and destroy your family, the World Dragon Council, that oaf Voldemort, and every last witch and wizard!" A vile, dark overtone took over her voice as she fell into a tirade of wild laughter. "Power, revenge, and supreme control over the magical world, ALL AT ONCE! What do you have to say to that, _American Dragon?_ "

For moment there was quiet. Chang waited expectantly with a vicious grin. In the distance, there was the faint noise of a door slamming shut.

_"Why?"_

Jake hacked through a mouthful of dirt, drawing strength from the rage boiling within him. "You want me...you want your body...and you want Potter... _fine_...but why you, Stout?" He glared up at the man who had taken to standing by, expressionless. "Betraying your own kind? To this _sicko?_ How could you?!"

"Me, the betrayer?" Stout stomped over to Jake and swiftly kicked him in the side. There was an audible crack and Jake curled inward, gasping with pain. " _They_ are the enemy, Jacob, not us! Witches and wizards are savages, fit only to destroy everything they touch!"

Jake heaved on the ground, his cough staining the dirt with drops of blood. "You're wrong...your family-"

"My family is DEAD!"

His roar hung in the air like a weight. There was a frightening mania about Stout as he glared at Jake, his forehead glistening with sweat. "Don't you get it?" he whispered. "They're dead. My wife, my child...because of _them_. I'm doing this for _them_."

Jake fought to breathe through the throbbing in his side. "I thought...they left? You said-"

"I said they'd made it to Spain," he scowled. "That's as far as they got before those cravens in black, those _Death Eaters_ , got to them! All because she just couldn't sit by last time, always going on about _making a difference_ and _doing the right thing_..."

Stout grabbed the nape of Jake's clothes and dragged him up the central mound. Rocks tore through his robes and skin as he tumbled helplessly over the ground. Jake struggled against his bindings, but the Sphinx Hair rope remained as firm as he was weak.

With a heave, Stout lifted Jake up and tossed him toward the archway. Jake hit the ground with a grunt and rolled into the stone structure. Something small and smooth slipped from his robes and rolled against his fingers as he slumped to a halt. There came another sound of a door slamming far away, followed by distant shouts and pounding.

"For years I've thought of what I could have done differently, what I could have said, but no more." Stout gazed above Jake with wonder, mesmerized by the arch. "They're here, and the Dark Dragon can bring them back. Just listen...can't you hear them?"

Jake fumbled the object behind him in his hand and felt his fingers curve around the smooth handle of his wand. A flicker of hope dawned through the haze of his fatigue, and he twisted his hands to aim the wand at his bindings.

The clamorous noises grew even louder, and it sounded like a large group was shouting just outside their arena. Chang grimaced over her shoulder. "Something's wrong."

Stout straightened beside her. "Perhaps they got more than they bargained for. Then again, if we don't wait for their signal..."

With a twist, the tip of Jake's wand jabbed into the knot of rope. He thought back to the textbooks and meetings he watched, desperately trying to think of a spell, _any_ spell that would work...

"I've waited long enough."

Chang clasped the front of Jake's robes and dragged him up. She carried him in front of the archway, his toes brushing the ground, and held him dangling in front of the wavering curtain. He could feel a chill seeping away from it, along with the faintest of voices. They whispered soft words too muddled to make out, begging him to lean just little bit closer.

"A sacrifice to the realm beyond, that I may draw from it once more!" Chang raised him higher. "Enjoy your trip to oblivion, American Dragon!"

There was a rumble just beyond the walls of their cavern. Jake fought against the pulsing drain of his shackles, his wand gripped tight. He poured every ounce of his being into his core and felt the faintest spark of life.

Jake grimaced. "After you... _your highness_."

A door at the edge of the room below the stands flung open. Chang and Stout both snapped their heads around as six bodies sprinted inside. Chang's eyes blazed with fury. "What is the meaning-?"

The brown haired girl in the lead skidded to a stop and gaped at them. " _JAKE!_ "

" _DIFFINDO_ _!_ "

The rope burst apart. Jake flung his hands out, snatched Chang's arms, and pulled his knees up to plant his feet on her chest. Chang watched with surprise as Jake threw his weight backward and lifted her off her feet, tumbling to the ground and flinging her overhead toward the arch.

"WaaAAAHHH-!"

One moment she was flying through the flickering veil, and the next she was gone. Chang's scream cut off abruptly as her form faded into thin air and her glowing red eyes blinked out of existence.

"NOOOO!"

Stout sprinted to the arch and braced against its supports. He searched the wavering fog frantically. "Chang...Celeste? CELESTE! Are you there? Say something, please!"

Jake struggled to sit up, his skin prickling as warmth and strength slowly pooled back into his limbs. He kicked the fallen shreds of Sphinx Hair away and tried to stand, but a powerful blow struck him in the side and sent him rolling down the hill. He came to a stop on one knee, gasping for breath with the wind knocked out of him.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Stout charged forward, his fists bared and his face contorted with rage. He took another swing, but Jake managed to roll sideways and shakily clamber to his feet. "YOU'VE RUINED EVERYTHING!"

"They were playing you Benjy!" His wand still in hand, Jake sidestepped and blocked each of Stout's blows as they danced across the dirt pit. "The Dark Dragon was a lying creep, he would have stabbed you in the back!"

The English Dragon's hand transformed mid-swing, and broad, green scaled knuckles dug into Jake's stomach. He doubled over in pain while Stout roared above him, "What did I have to lose?! Your life, mine, I would have given ANYTHING for them! ANYTHING!"

Jake swung his legs out and swept Stout off his feet. He leaped on top of him, but Stout caught him by the throat with his transformed hand, rolled over, and pinned him to the ground instead. Stout's claws constricted, crushing Jake's windpipe until he began to feel lightheaded.

" _Your wife...wouldn't...want this!_ "

Stout's claws stiffened. He glowered down at Jake and brought his other hand up for the final blow, but it hung in the air motionless. A look of anguish crossed Stout's face as he shook his head, biting back some unvoiced thought.

" _STUPIFY!_ "

A bolt of red light struck Stout in the side and sent him tumbling limply to the ground. Jake clutched his throat and choked in raspy breaths as the group of students hurried to their side. Harry ran past him to examine Stout's unmoving body while a hand slung beneath Jake's arm and pulled him to his feet.

Hermione held him steady, looking equally haggard and bruised herself. "Are you alright, Jake? What's going on, why were you and Stout fighting?"

"John?" Harry looked back at him from where he knelt beside Stout, holding up the English Dragon's still transformed hand. "Is this...?"

"Sodding hell!" Ron gasped. "What's he done to himself?!"

Jake brushed off Hermione and walked toward Harry. "Yo, are you deaf or something? I told you not to leave Hogwarts!" He waved away Harry's affronted look. "Never mind, there's no time. Help me with Stout, we've gotta bail!"

"You want to bring this guy with us?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Didn't he just attack you?"

Jake bent down to grab Stout's shoulder and cringed as pain shot through his side where Stout had kicked him. He scowled at Ginny. "I am _not_ leaving him here, so you can either help me or-"

"THEY'RE HERE!"

* * *

Harry jumped at the sound of the shrill voice, dropping Mr. Stout's drastically transfigured hand. At the edge of the room by the doorway he and the others had just barged through, Bellatrix posed triumphantly. Shuffling feet echoed from behind her, and soon the other black robed Death Eaters poured out from the hallway and formed up beside her.

"Baby Potter lost his game of hide and seek!" she cackled, and her compatriots filled the room with laughter. "Nowhere left to run!"

Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny all backed further up the hill, closing together with their wands drawn. Harry stepped around Stout and took his place in front of the group. He faced off against the awaiting Death Eaters, pulling out the blue orb from his robes and preparing to make the stand of his life.

Their sinister file slowly parted and Lucius Malfoy calmly strode into the arena. He held his chin high and hissed, "Last chance, Potter. Surrender, or your friends will drop like _flies_."

John shoved past Harry and stood between him and Malfoy. He raised his fists with his feet set in a wide stance. "Funny, I was just about to say the same thing."

Hermione fidgeted beside Harry. "Jake, don't-!"

"I'll handle these guys." John remained tense, entirely focused on the Death Eaters. "There are more doors up in the stands. Run like hell and don't look back."

"A volunteer then?" Lucius rolled his eyes and raised his wand. "So be it. _Avada Kedavra!_ "

From Harry's perspective, time seemed to slow. Green light arced from Lucius's wand and crackled through the air, and for a moment he felt like he was back in the graveyard with Pettigrew, watching the same thing happen to Cedric. And just like before, he found himself too slow to intervene.

Flaming light blazed in front of John and he held his arms up as a shield just as the Killing Curse collided with him.

" _NO!_ "

Hermione's scream mirrored the horror in Harry, but they all watched as John inconceivably stayed steady on his feet. Tendrils of smoke rose from his arms as he dropped them at his sides, and Harry saw that they were huge, scaled, and red with vicious claws, just as Stout's hand had been.

The cloaked figures below mumbled with unease. One of them spoke up heatedly, "'Ey, he's still standin'! Hit 'em again!"

"I can't fight with you here!" John looked back at them with a snarl, his eyes glowing a faint yellow. "RUN! GO!"

Harry's mind was in shambles. Every part of him was screaming to stand his ground, but if there was even the slightest chance of escaping with his friends' lives then he had to take it.

He turned to the others. "You heard him, RUN!"

"LEAVE THE BOY, STOP POTTER!"

The Death Eaters became a stampede at Lucius's command, all charging into the pit as Harry led the others across the enclosure. Spells cracked and curses smashed into the ground and stone around them, and the cries of battle chased their backs. Harry pressed on, gunning straight for the stairs at the opposite end of the room.

They'd reached the tiers of long benches and were beginning their climb when the door at the top blasted off its hinges in a plume of fire _._ An enormous blue serpent with a white mane and whiskers soared through the smoking debris and landed just behind them. He blocked two blasts of red light with his tail and roared out flames that sent their casters running.

"Lao Shi, he's over there!" Hermione yelled, motioning toward the group of battling wizards. "The Death Eaters, _hurry!_ "

The creature turned and nodded before jumping back into the air. Harry watched it join the fray, his heart racing in his chest. "The Dragons?! Then where's - _Sirius!_ "

Sprinting through the ashes, Sirius appeared in the doorway above them with Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye Moody, and Kingsley following soon after. The members of the Order of the Phoenix rushed down the stands and out onto the battlefield while Sirius stopped beside Harry and embraced him. "Harry-"

"I thought you were dead!" Harry pulled away and looked at him, shaking his head. "That's why we came, it's my fault-"

"You've done _spectacularly_ , Harry," Sirius laughed. "Now let me finish this. Take the others and go, quickly!"

Harry wanted to argue, but Sirius was already off helping Tonks fend off three Death Eaters at the base of the central hill. Resigned, Harry started the climb up the stairs and did his best to ignore the noises below. Luna and Ginny made it through the doorway first when they reached the top, then Ron and Neville. Hermione hesitated and stared down at the pit of dueling witches and wizards with remorse.

"Go, GO!" Harry guided her through and made to follow after, when he heard Sirius shout from below.

"REMUS!"

The man in tattered robes had been thrown against a tier of benches and gone limp. The two Death Eaters he'd been dueling were approaching his body, but Sirius met them halfway and knocked one out with a Stunning Spell to the chest. He fought off the other attacker while guarding Remus, but he was beginning to steadily lose ground.

"Harry, come back!"

"Get the others out!" he yelled over his shoulder. His clothes waved wildly behind him as he ran down the stairs and back into the arena. Curses flew overhead and he deflected a stray hex before he was finally in range. " _EXPELLIARMUS!_ "

The Death Eater's wand ejected from his hand. He turned in surprise, and Harry saw his gnarled, bearded face scowl with fury until a blast from Sirius threw the man from the tier of seats.

"Good shot, Harry!" Sirius applauded. He picked Remus up by the shoulder and leaned his body against the stands, his fingers pressed to the Remus's neck. "He's still alive, thank Merlin. That man just there, Harry. Get him out of the way, bring him here and stay low!"

In the light of flashing spells, Harry looked around and found the still unconscious form of Mr. Stout. Despite his apprehensions of the man, Harry obeyed and dragged him through the dirt by the collar of his robes. He leaned Mr. Stout beside Remus and was distracted once more by his strangely transfigured arm. Something about it consumed him, something important...

Sirius was on his feet, his back to Harry as he returned to the fight. Harry watched him go and found the room swallowed in chaos, defeated combatants already littering ground. Thankfully the majority of them were clad in black robes and silver masks, but the battle was far from finished. While the members of the Order fought on the fringes, Lao Shi and John were back to back at the center of the room by the archway. They brawled together fiercely like they'd had years of practice, swiping and blocking with their matching beastly arms.

As he watched, a revelation bloomed in the back of Harry's mind. He did a double take between Stout and where John and Lao Shi fought, the questions he'd gathered all day suddenly piecing themselves together.

"Hold on Jake, I'm coming!"

Hermione sprinted past Harry and toward the archway. Ron ran after her. "Hermione, wait!"

"Jake?" Harry stumbled to his feet and hurried after them. Neville, Luna, and Ginny had finished climbing the stairs and were just behind him, but he was focused completely on the center of the arena and the boy with green-tipped hair fighting against a crowd of Death Eaters.

* * *

"And where do y'all think _you're_ goin'?!"

The line of Death Eaters broke ranks and poured up the hill. Jake flicked his arm out and sent a manipulation at the encroaching wizards, two of which were promptly flung to the ground. He blocked a spell with his singed right arm and manipulated a boulder at another Death Eater, but several of their number were already streaking past the arch where Harry and the others had fled.

"You're becoming a nuisance!"

Jake ducked away from a crack of red lightning and turned to the tall blonde man that had cast it. He strutted toward Jake, growling with his wand raised. "This would end much quicker if you'd stop being a pain and hold still!"

"Yo, the only _pain_ here is the one in my eyes from looking at your sorry mug!"

"Why you-"

He twirled his wand and fired yellow sparks that honed in on Jake. Rolling and sliding, Jake managed to dodge them and leaped at the wizard. Jake's claws were inches away from his face when something wrapped around his ankle and flung him through the air. The floor and ceiling spun as he flew, and Jake landed roughly on the ground, gouging his claws in the dirt to slow himself.

A witch with wild black hair that looked like she belonged in an asylum laughed hysterically by the blonde wizard, a long dark whip extending from her wand. "Well he's a feisty one, isn't he? See him there, jumpin' around like a pixie!"

Jake was quick to his feet and saw more of the dark wizards closing in from behind him. The flame of chi within him was barely a flickering ember, and his limbs were aching and sore. In this state, there was no question about it: Jake was done for.

"You like my moves, huh?" He smirked at the insane witch, still trying to catch his breath. "Well come on, then. Let's _dance_ _._ "

She brought her wand up with a gleam in her eyes, and Jake covered his face with his arms. Before she could strike, a great body dove down from above and landed beside Jake, stirring up a wind that sent the Death Eaters stumbling. They shied away from the beast, but the sight of the winding blue Dragon left Jake more overjoyed than he'd ever been before.

"Well it's about time, Gramps! What took ya?"

"Next time you run away, leave a more descriptive note!" Lao Shi swiped his tail out and launched a Death Eater clear across the room. "Now is also not the time for discretion, young dragon! Use your Dragon form!"

Jake sidestepped a spell and blocked another with his arm. "Sorry G, but I can't!"

The witch's black whip ensnared Lao Shi's arm, but he it ripped easily with a swipe of his claws. He bellowed back at Jake, "No more protocol! LISTEN TO GRANDPA!"

"Gramps, I _literally_ can't! This is all I've got!"

Something caught Jake in the side and he collapsed to his knees. It felt like a thousand needles were being jabbed into his chest, and he could see their foes closing in for the kill, but still he couldn't force out any more strength from his core. "Dragon Up! _Dragon Up!_ "

" _Impedimentia!_ "

The closest Death Eater yelped and cartwheeled through the air. His partner spun around and erected a magical shield, backing away as bursts of red light smacked against the barrier. Hermione appeared from behind the arch, her wand spinning through the air as she volleyed spell after spell at the wizard. Over her shoulder, Ron appeared next, followed by Harry and the others.

Jake burned hot with rage. "I told you to go! GET OUT OF HERE!"

Hermione edged her way closer to Jake and Lao Shi. "I'm not leaving you here!"

"Listen to him, young one!" Lao Shi urged. The blonde Death Eater conjured chains to ensnare him, but Lao Shi manipulated the links and spun them around their caster instead, who tripped to the ground in a mass of clinking metal. "This is no place for you, it is too dangerous!"

Ignoring them both, the students formed up with Lao Shi into a rough circle around Jake. Turning to the middle, Harry grabbed Jake's scaled arm and hauled him to his feet.

"We're in this together!" Harry nodded at him. "Friends for life, Jake! Remember?"

The ground suddenly heaved beneath them and a monstrous, ear-splitting roar shook the room. The snaps and flashes of spells ceased instantly, and everyone in the enclosure turned toward the archway. They watched as the foggy veil turned thick and dark, churning like a wall of bubbling ink and oozing a heavy smoke over the ground.

The beastly roar turned into menacing laughter. "I...AM... _WHOLE_ AGAIN!"

Jake's shoulders sagged. "Aw _shit._ "

The laughter grew louder as a massive reptilian paw protruded from the archway. Its scales were black as midnight, and its claws carved into the dirt as it pulled through the rest of its arm. There was a bulge in the oily wall before the black curtain slid apart to reveal the fanged maw and glowing red eyes of the Dark Dragon.

Lao Shi lifted his head to the ceiling. "RUN! WHILE YOU STILL CAN!"

Everybody scattered. The Death Eaters that were still conscious abandoned their fights and darted for the nearest exit. As they ran, the Dark Dragon forced a shoulder and his other arm through the archway.

Snarling, the witch that had dueled with Lao Shi turned and dashed away toward an open door. Another wizard with matching wild black hair chased after her. "You won't get away, Bellatrix!"

"Sirius!" Harry let go of Jake and ran away toward the wizard. Jake tried to catch him, but turned as the Dark Dragon let out another triumphant roar. His torso was fully exposed, and his wings were spread wide over the central mound.

"Save the students, Jake!" Lao Shi ordered before leaping into the air. He rained fire down on the Dark Dragon, the latter swatting away the flames with ease. It was torture for Jake to watch helpless, yet he had no choice but to obey.

"For real this time!" He grabbed Hermione and the others, who still stood paralyzed beside Jake, watching the dark creature's resurrection. He yanked them away and out of the arena. "Quit rubbernecking and start running! NOW!"

"AHAHAHAH! SUCH POWER!" The Dark Dragon stepped through the archway, fully free of the inky veil.

Lao Shi circled around, raining more fire down upon the Dark Dragon. "We defeated you twice, we shall do it ag-!"

The Dark Dragon swung his arm out and batted Lao Shi out of the sky. The blue serpent crashed into the stone tiers, moaning in pain.

"I had hoped to spare her, but Chang's chi sufficed!" The pulsing red eyes of the Dark Dragon fixated on Jake's group. "And now, I can destroy the American Dragon with my OWN HANDS!"

Jake watched the creature inhale deeply and knew they had no chance of outrunning what was to come. Desperate, he spun around and flung his arms wide, and warmth erupted from his chest.

" _BUUURN!"_

His arms and wings fell over the students. Jake gripped them tight as the wave of heat brushed his scales, but the inferno never arrived. Violet flames skirted the edges of his vision and conveniently avoided a cone shaped area around them. Jake looked over his shoulder with wonder and gaped at the green and purple Dragon parting the flames with a magical barrier.

" _Stout?!_ "

The unholy torrent finally ceased. The Dark Dragon growled as Stout lowered his claws. "Traitor! Betray me and you will never see your family again, English Dragon!"

"The pot calls the kettle black." Stout jumped into the air and spat emerald fireballs into his hands that shaped themselves into what looked like flaming, jagged daggers. "And my family would be ashamed to know I helped a madman like you."

The Dark Dragon chuckled. "Then you're traitor _and_ a fool!"

The shadows around the room shifted, distorting and stretching toward the Dark Dragon. Their forms leaked out of the ground and drifted upward, twisting into dragon shaped servants with eyes as red and vicious as their master's.

"Let's go you lot, this instant!"

Jake turned back to see a witch with short pink hair beckoning toward the group of students. Hermione shook her head. "We can't leave, Tonks! They need our help!"

The others, however, were staring at Jake, particularly Ron who looked like he'd been slapped. "You...you're...?"

"You, Tonka Truck," Jake pointed at the witch. "Take them as far away as you can, things are about to get real up in here!"

She nodded and almost threw Neville and Luna toward the exit. Hermione gave Jake a pleading look. "But Jake, we..."

Jake snatched her and Ginny in his arms. They yelped as he launched toward the open door at the edge of the arena and shoved them through. The pink haired witch arrived with Ron and Jake ushered them both through before slamming the door shut without a word.

The tiers around the room had filled with an army of ruby eyed shade demons by the time Jake made it back into the air. He flew to Stout's side and faced off with the still grinning Dark Dragon. Off in the stands, his grandfather was quiet and unmoving.

"Gramps is out cold," Jake said. "So Benjy, what's the plan for dealing with the Dark Dill Weed?"

"Send the bastard back where he came from." Stout twirled the flame daggers in his hands and dove into battle.

Jake charged after him, staring at the now relatively small archway. "Hope you brought grease, 'cause that's gonna be one tight fit!"

As they flew in, the Dark Dragon roared and his shade army sprung to life. The horde of shadows soared high and collapsed all around them, swerving in to lay their ghostly claws into Jake and Stout. Jake broke away from Stout and tried to evade his pursuers, dodging and changing direction with all of the agility his wings could provide.

"Your efforts are meaningless!" The Dark Dragon swiped his claws out and narrowly missed Jake. "The whole of the Dragon Order couldn't stop me! Give up now and I promise make your deaths _almost_ bearable!"

Swooping up from behind, Stout maneuvered through the shade demons and gouged his daggers into the Dark Dragon's shoulder. He carved out tracks in the monster's skin and bailed as the Dark Dragon snapped at him, howling in pain.

"Nice shot Benjy!" Jake used the diversion to soar at the Dark Dragon like a missile. He swung around and transferred all of his momentum into a single kick into the Dark Dragon's stomach, and the beast stumbled a step back toward the archway.

"Insolent whelp!" The Dark Dragon recovered and smacked Jake across the room with the back of his hand.

Jake righted himself and glided back around, watching as Stout danced like a wasp and searched for another opportunity to strike. It was clear to see, however, that the English Dragon's efforts were taking their toll. Without a change in tactic, the two of them would run out of steam far sooner than their nemesis.

One of the shade demons darted in from Jake's blind spot and caught him in the leg. Instantly, he felt the same throbbing pain from the Sphinx Hair shoot through him, and the fatigue made his chi flicker even duller. He grew even weaker, but the distressing sensation also gave Jake an idea.

"Yo, Benjy!" Jake circled around toward Stout, checking the trail of shade demons behind him and lining up his approach. "I've got a plan, watch this!"

Fighting his gut instinct, Jake dove straight towards the Dark Dragon. He ducked away from the monster's claws and careened past his flank, clinging so close that he felt his spine brush against the Dark Dragon's pitch black hide.

The Dark Dragon's head swiveled around. "You cannot run forev-AAAGGGHHH!"

The group of shade demons following Jake honed in on him as usual, passing straight through the Dark Dragon in their pursuit. The beast clutched as his side and trembled with renewed fury, spouting plumes of violet flames in Jake's wake.

Jake cheered over his shoulder. "YEAH! You're about to have a taste of your own medicine, dawg, 'cause Dr. Long is in the house!"

"That's brilliant Jake!" Stout spiraled past the Dark Dragon and slid just beneath his arm. The Dark Dragon swatted at him before falling to his knees as another train of shade demons barreled after Stout and flew straight through his chest. Jake and Stout each made more passes, dodging the Dark Dragon's defenses and leading his own armada of shade demons straight through his resilient hide.

"IMPOSSIBLE!" The Dark Dragon heaved on the ground, glaring at Jake with unbridled fury. "This is MY magic, I ALONE am its master!"

"No sweat!" Jake lined up from the far side of the chamber and rocketed at the Dark Dragon like a cannonball. "You want it so bad, you can HAVE IT!"

He swung his tail out like a bat and smacked the Dark Dragon hard across the jaw. The Dark Dragon fell backwards and was on the verge of the archway when he dug his claws into the stone supports.

Stout dove in and dug his daggers into the Dark Dragon's arms. His claws retracted in agony, and Stout reared an arm back.

"Give Chang my regards."

Stout's bared knuckles buried into the Dark Dragon's chest and lifted him of his feet. He fell back into the archway's muddy veil and splashed into it as if it were a pit of tar. The inky contents oozed over his body and dragged him deeper into the murky depths.

"This cannot be!" The behemoth struggled to free himself. "My power! I CANNOT BE DEFEATED! NOOOOO-!"

The Dark Dragon's maw sunk below the surface, his voice fading into nothingness. The ranks of shade demons that filled the room dissipated into harmless smoke and the shadows fell back against the walls. Everything was silent as Jake landed in front of the arch beside Stout, watching the smooth ripples of the black veil.

"We did it?" Jake barked out a laugh. "WE DID IT! HAHA! That was SICK, Stout! The way you sliced him up, and that killer one-liner at the end! _Give Chang my regards,_ dude, that was awesome! Uh...Stout?"

The English Dragon was a statue. He stared despondently at the arch, slouching with a defeated air. "For the first time, I actually had hope. But now..."

The meaning of his despair dawned on Jake. "Listen Benjy, I..." Lost for words, he grunted and shook his head. "C'mon, let's find Gramps and-"

Black fog surged from the arch's curtain, and a clawed hand erupted from the void straight toward Jake. Before he could react, Stout jumped and shoved him out of the way, and Jake watched as the Dark Dragon's claws sunk themselves into the English Dragon's back with a wet, crunching sound.

The Dark Dragon roared from beyond the veil. "YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ME!"

"BENJY!" Jake reached for the gaping Dragon and grabbed his arm. He dug his feet into the ground and strained to hold on as the Dark Dragon wrenched him backward toward the arch.

Blood trickled down the side of Stout's jaw. "He'll take both of us...let go!"

"SHUT UP!" Jake's heels slid an inch over the ground, then another. "You don't have a choice! I won't let go, NEVER!"

"Sorry, American Dragon." Stout spat a fireball into his free hand and smiled. "But we _always_ have a choice."

"Benjy, DON'T-"

The English Dragon hurled the fire at Jake's hand. The green flames scalded Jake and freed his grip, and Stout flew backward in the Dark Dragon's clutches. Peacefully, he closed his eyes and disappeared into the black curtain.

The veil's surface churned and boiled. Jake took flight and prepared to dive in after Stout, but he paused as the chamber began to tremble. Dust fell from the ceiling and the ground shook as cracks formed and spread over the archway.

"STOUT!"

There was a fizzling pop in Jake's ears, and the last thing he saw was an explosion of blinding white light.

* * *

"Sirius, wait!"

Harry's lungs ached as he fought to catch up to his godfather. He'd sprinted back through the hallways and carousel room of doors, following Sirius until the man had boarded a lift at the entrance to the department and left without him.

Harry boarded another lift and threw the golden grills closed. "The Atrium, hurry!"

The knobs and levers remained lifeless. Harry glared at the controls, shouting impatiently, "Whenever you're ready! Atrium! The Atrium, please!"

" _That's better._ " The elevator jerked into motion, and Harry rolled his eyes as he clung to a side railing. It seemed to be taking much longer than when they'd arrived, but eventually the soft light of the Atrium spilled into the lift.

The grills opened, and the woman's voice returned. " _Main Level: Atr-_ "

"SIRIUS!"

The fireplaces that lined the far end of the cavern flashed with green flames as the few fleeing Death Eaters escaped through the Floo Network. Blocking the way to the fireplaces, Bellatrix Lestrange faced off against Sirius, the two flinging jinxes and curses at one another in a dizzying blur.

" _Protego!"_ Bellatrix deflected a spell and snapped her wand out. " _CRUCIO!_ "

" _PROTEGO!_ "

The flash of light broke over Harry's Shield Charm. Sirius looked sideways as Harry came to his side. "Nice one, Harry, but you shouldn't be here!"

"I've been getting a lot of that lately." Harry twirled his wand through air. " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Bellatrix blocked the spell and retaliated in kind, and the duel flew back into full swing. Harry and Sirius's movements felt fluid and almost coordinated, the two of them alternating between offense and defense seamlessly. Despite their combined efforts, Bellatrix failed to show the slightest signs of tiring.

" _Stupefy!_ " Harry took another step forward. " _Petrificus Total-AAGGGHH!_ "

Blinding pain screamed through his head like a knife sinking into his skull. Harry collapsed, writhing on his side with his hands clamped over his forehead.

Sirius looked down at him wide-eyed. "Harry!"

" _HAH!_ "

A shock wave from Bellatrix caught Sirius straight on and launched him through the air. Sirius spun end-over-end and slammed against the golden wizard statue in the fountain, falling limp with a splash into the water below. The sight made Harry's chest ache and immediately cleared his head.

"NO!"

His wand slashed out, and a crack of red light flung the wand from Bellatrix's grip. She bared her yellow teeth at Harry with a mad snarl as he stood and snapped his wand at her again.

" _CRUCIO!_ "

The spell caught Bellatrix's shoulder and she tumbled to the ground twitching. Harry ran forward until he was towering over her, shaking with blind rage for the trembling woman.

A whisper hissed temptingly into his ear. " _Do it, Harry. You know the spell. She_ deserves _it._ "

The taste of copper burned his tongue, and a cold furor rose up within Harry. This was the woman that had threatened to kill his friends, that had tortured Neville's parents and hurt Sirius. Harry gripped his wand tighter, but found himself transfixed by Bellatrix's ragged hair, her gaunt face and wide, defenseless stare.

" _Do it!_ " the voice urged. " _DO IT!_ "

Even now, filled with hate and loathing for the woman, Harry couldn't utter the words. His tongue squirmed as he struggled and shook his head. Below, Bellatrix looked behind him and her lips split in a sadistic smile.

The whisper sneered just over Harry's shoulder. "How _pathetic_ _._ "

Harry spun around and was thrown off his feet. He hit the polished floor and slid into one of the overlarge fireplaces, his head thumping against the frame. His vision blurred, he fumbled for his wand while Voldemort stood only paces away. Searing pain burst from Harry's scar as he watched the terrifying pale visage with dark robes and blood-red eyes.

"You're so weak." Voldemort stepped closer while Bellatrix got to her feet behind him, his high chilling voice echoing throughout the hall. "Years of interfering with my plans, and you can't even avenge your godfather."

Harry clutched at his head, the pain making it difficult to concentrate. He scowled defiantly at Voldemort. "No...I'm not like you!"

"And that is why you shall lose." Voldemort aimed his wand squarely at Harry's chest. "I'm going to kill you, Potter, and then I'm going to take my prophecy. You've been a nuisance for far too long. _Avada Kedavra!_ "

It was as if Harry's limbs had petrified. He limply watched green light erupt from Voldemort's wand, his hand itching toward the orb in his pocket as he awaited his fate.

There was the sound of splintering wood, and the floor between Harry and Voldemort spouted upwards like a solid geyser. Voldemort's Killing Curse struck the barrier and Harry covered his face from the resulting shower of splinters as it shattered.

"Wha-waaAAAAHHH!"

Flipping end over end, Bellatrix flew sideways through the Atrium and disappeared by the golden gates of the lifts. Voldemort turned and deflected another curse with a Shield Charm.

"Dumbledore!" he hissed. "What a pleasant surprise. Have you come to die as well?"

From the shadows of the fireplaces, Dumbledore strode forward with his wand at his side. "There has already been more than enough death tonight, Tom."

There was a blur of movement, and streaks of orange light shot out from Dumbledore like flares. They traced their path as they raced toward Voldemort, who surrounded himself with a sphere of flame. The fire consumed the sparks and reared up into the air, morphing into a massive flaming snake that lunged out toward Dumbledore. With a twirl of his wand, the snake split in two with each half swirling around him and back toward Voldemort, now twisted and condensed into massive silver chains.

"You've grown soft, old man!" Voldemort flicked a lash of blue light at the chains, and they dissolved harmlessly into dust. "Or perhaps you think yourself too noble or strong to kill another?"

Dumbledore turned with a swirl of his cloak and vanished, reappearing behind Voldemort near the Fountain of Magical Brethren. With a slash of his wand, the golden statues of the wizard and centaur came to life and climbed down from their pedestal to Dumbledore's side.

"True strength does not come from murder and ambition," he said. "Time and again you see this, yet still you cling to your twisted ideals!"

"Spare me your lectures!" Voldemort sent an array of green lightning bolts at Dumbledore, casting faster than Harry ever thought possible. The golden wizard statue stepped in front of the headmaster and took the brunt of the magic, losing limbs and chunks with each attack. The centaur statue cantered around and charged at Voldemort from the side, but Harry was focused on the fountain behind Dumbledore. He could see the water lapping at the sides as their battle raged and briefly saw Sirius's still body floating in the waves.

The golden wizard's head flew off of its neck, and its crumbling body fell to the ground. Just then, the centaur statue made another pass at Voldemort, but was thrown back by a blast of light from the dark wizard. The statue tumbled toward Dumbledore, who ducked as it rolled overhead and crashed into the rest of the fountain in a spray of broken stone.

Harry shot up to his feet. "SIRIUS!"

"Stay where you are, Harry!" Dumbledore shouted.

He froze in place. Voldemort's crimson eyes drifted toward Harry and narrowed.

A tidal wave rose out of the fountain and crashed through the Atrium. Dumbledore twisted his wand, and the rapids engulfed Voldemort and raised him into the air, suspending him in a sphere of rushing water. For a moment he seemed imprisoned, and the next the sphere collapsed inward and fell apart. Water poured over the floor, but Voldemort was nowhere to be found.

Harry looked back to the drained fountain. Sirius was just visible, leaning against the back of the empty basin with his head leaning onto his chest. Feeling seeped back into Harry's legs as he ran forward. "Sirius...Sirius!"

A blast of pain stunned him briefly, and by the time Harry fell to the ground again he was screaming in agony. Dumbledore was instantly at his side, but it didn't matter. It felt like Harry's head was being wrenched open through skin and bone. The suffering was indescribable, beyond anything he'd ever experienced or ever feared possible.

Dumbledore grabbed his shoulders. "Harry! What's wrong, speak to me!"

Harry felt himself chuckle, and his voice wheezed out words that were not his own. " _Let's test your theory, old man._ "

Dumbledore gaped, but Harry was blinded with agony. The pain was excruciating, and all he could think of was to beg for it to end.

" _Stop me if you can_ _,_ " he said. " _Otherwise, you'll have to kill the boy if you want to kill me._ "

Harry wanted to shout out, to plead with Dumbledore to listen and just end it. Being cursed, being killed, nothing could be worse than this torture.

Voldemort teased through Harry's voice again. " _Can you do it? How badly do you want to stop me?_ "

If dying meant taking Voldemort with him, then at least he could make up for putting his friends in danger. Harry's thoughts shifted to Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna below, who's only mistake had been trusting his judgment. He thought of Jake, Lao Shi, and Mr. Stout, of the Order members who had come to their rescue. And he thought of Sirius, his only family who now lied still in the cold stone fountain only steps away...

There was a hiss in Harry's ear, and the screaming pain in his head ceased instantly. Harry blinked up at Dumbledore's concerned face and felt the now numb scar over his forehead. Then he remembered. "Sirius!"

"Harry, wait-"

Harry brushed off Dumbledore's embrace and sprinted to the remains of the fountain. The statues had been reduced to mounds of rubble, and between the decapitated goblin's head and the centaur's amputated arm was Sirius.

"Sirius!" A thin layer of water soaked Harry's shoes as he splashed over to this godfather. He knelt beside him and shook his shoulders, bracing the back of his lolling head with one of his hands and watching water dribble from the corner of his mouth. Sirius's eyes were closed, and Harry pulled his hand away to see his fingers tinged red.

A thick cloak wrapped over Harry, and long arms pulled him upright. "Look away, Harry."

"No, stop professor! Let go! What are-?"

Dumbledore forced him around, and Harry saw flashes of green fire down the hallway. Through the fireplaces, witches and wizards were appearing one by one and gaping at the destruction before them. Harry found the pale form of Voldemort at the far end of the Atrium and watched as he grabbed Bellatrix's unconscious body and vanished with a _CRACK._

"There, did you see that! It was _him!_ " one witch called.

"I saw him too!" another wizard agreed. "Minister, that was You-Know-Who! I'm sure of it!"

The round man the wizard had addressed was awestruck, dabbing at his forehead with a lavender handkerchief. "I know, I know! I saw it as well, b-but how? And why - Dumbledore! What in blazes-!"

"Cornelius!" Dumbledore dragged Harry out of the fountain and addressed the Minister of Magic, who was now staring wide-eyed at Harry. "There has been an incursion into the Ministry by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. There are others below in the Department of Mysteries, we must go at once!"

"The Department of - and Mr. Potter - _what is going on here Dumbledore?!_ "

Dumbledore turned away from him and picked up a statue fragment from the ground. The stone shook and glowed blue as he waved his wand over it and forced it into Harry's hands. "Take this Portkey, it will deliver you to my office at Hogwarts. I will see to the others and meet you there shortly."

There were new tears in Harry's eyes, and he wasn't entirely sure why. "But Professor, Sirius is still here!" he choked. "He needs help, look at him! I can't just leave him, I-!"

Sadness filled Dumbledore's every word. "I'm sorry, Harry. There's nothing you can do."

Flashes from camera bulbs and the fireplaces of arriving witnesses lit the edge of Harry's vision. A crowd had now formed around them, but Harry was numb to it all. It was as if a great storm had sucked the air from the room and stolen all life along with it. He looked over Dumbledore's shoulder toward the fountain, and half expected a barking shaggy dog to come bounding right out of it.

Dumbledore curled Harry's fingers tighter over the stone. Harry felt a tremor in the rock, a jerk behind his navel, and was pulled into the depths of a shapeless void.


	31. All Good Things

"...a considerable amount of damage, and not just to the Department of Mysteries. The Prime Minister himself closed half of the Ministry just to deal with the situation."

"Indeed. I do not envy his position at this hour."

"By all means, save your pity. Fudge brought this on himself. I won't be surprised if he resigns once the Daily Prophet has its way with him."

Like rising out of tar, Jake's sight and hearing sluggishly returned to him. He could feel the soft linens wrapped around him and the down pillow beneath his head, but he also slowly began to notice the aching in his chest and the throbbing pain his ribs. His arms felt raw, his joints were stiff as ice, in fact there was very little of Jake's body that _didn't_ hurt at the moment.

"And the dark wizards? What became of them?"

"Yes, the Death Eaters. We managed to capture a fair number of them, but we had our own...losses." A chair scraped against stone, and the woman's voice returned more loudly. "Though it would have been far worse had you two not been there. Isn't that right, Mr. Long?"

The light was so bright it felt like Jake had his face pressed to the sun itself. He squinted into the burning day and saw above him the rafters and arched windows of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing where was currently lying in a corner, blocked from view by standing curtains and dressed in itchy white clothes that reeked of bleach. Lao Shi sat on a cot to Jake's right in his dragon form, while Professor McGonagall stood erect at the foot of Jake's bed, leaning on a cane with her right arm cradled below her chest in a sling.

She tilted her head toward Jake. "Good morning. You're looking well, all things considered."

"Yo...'sup, McGonagall." Jake pushed himself further up the bed, groaning from the pain in his side. "You don't look so bad yourself. Aren't you supposed to be at a hospital or something?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Aren't _you_ supposed to be a mute?"

"Oh...yeah, about that..."

Lao Shi put a clawed hand on Jake's knee. "You need not explain if you do not wish to, young one."

"It's cool, Gramps. I should've come clean a while ago." Jake turned back to the Transfiguration professor. "Besides, I think you're really gonna like this."

Professor McGonagall cocked an eyebrow. "And by 'this', you mean...?"

Jake closed his eyes and focused inward. Within his chest beneath the aching bone and muscle, he could still feel his seed of dragon chi. It wasn't as bright and powerful as usual, but he only needed to divert a portion of the energy up through his neck to feel the magical flames transform his head.

He snapped his eyes open and smiled a toothy grin. "Ta-da!"

Professor McGonagall was unfazed. "Well, that's a relief."

Jake's pointed ears drooped. "Say what?"

"Had I known that I was not teaching a wizard, Mr. Long, I would have taken your poor performance in my class much less personally." The corner of her mouth perked up. "So thank you. Now I won't have any guilt over the results of your O.W.L.s."

Flames sparked out as Jake drained away his chi and returned his head to normal. "You're welcome, I guess?"

"You see now why I was reluctant to corroborate the Death Eater's story," Lao Shi sighed. Soft flames that looked more like smoke engulfed him and left behind a short, old, white haired man in a blue robe. "The nature of our identities is not a subject we discuss lightly."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Even so, it is good to know that Malfoy's testimony harbors some truth, though I had admittedly hoped otherwise."

Lao Shi bowed his head. "As had I."

Jake waved his hands. "Hold up, I'm out of the loop. What testimony are we talking about?"

"The one given by Lucius Malfoy, the leader of the Death Eaters," Professor McGonagall clarified. Her voice took on a morose tone. "The Aurors found him and several of his comrades when they arrived, along with the two of you. Malfoy was trapped in chains, but was still conscious and had seen most of what transpired. We promised to lessen his sentence if he gave us information, though I was skeptical of his credibility when he mentioned one of the students fighting by transfiguring his arms."

Jake leaned forward over his sheets. "So he talked? What else did he say?"

Professor McGonagall's face fell a bit further. "That's...what I came to discuss with you."

"Please, allow me." Lao Shi stood and bowed to her politely. "I can relay all that you have told me. I'm sure you have more pressing matters to attend to."

She paused with an uncertain look before returning a curt bow. "Very well. Take as much time as you need."

Professor McGonagall turned and walked toward the hanging curtain that surrounded their section of the Hospital Wing. Slipping through the curtain, there was the sudden introduction of heated conversation from the rest of the ward. Jake recognized the voices but could not divine the context of their conversation before they abruptly cut off as the curtain closed again.

Jake looked away from the enchanted enclosure and back to his grandfather, who had returned to his cot with his hands folded and his eyes closed. It was strange to Jake how natural he felt with Lao Shi beside him, as if he had never run away from the man and the rest of his family months ago. Just having him near sent pangs of joy through Jake's chest, yet he could think of nothing to say.

His Dragon Master, it seemed, was struggling as well. So they sat together for a while, sharing their artificial silence so long that Jake began to pick at his scabs and bruises. The skin of his forearms was cracked where he had blocked the Killing Curse, and an itching rash shaped just like the sphinx hair rope circled both of his wrists.

"Forgive me, Jake."

"Huh?" Jake looked at Lao Shi, utterly perplexed. "Forgive _you_ _?_ What are you talking about, G? We both know this is all my fault."

From the pocket of his robes, Lao Shi pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and began to smooth it out. Shame crept through Jake as he recognized the note he'd left on his desk when he'd left.

"Everything changed after Chang escaped. I was so focused on capturing her that I failed to see how burdened you were until it was too late. And even then, I only pushed you further away."

"G, it's not like that-"

Lao Shi shook his head. "I failed you, young dragon. A dragon master must be there for their dragon student, but I was not. It was I who lost perspective, not you."

A strange feeling bubbled within Jake, as if he were taking a breath of fresh air for the first time in weeks. It felt like he'd just taken off his training collar, and before he knew it he was laughing. Even as his side screamed in pain and his head pounded, he couldn't stop himself from giggling like an idiot.

"Oh man...that's rich!"

"What?" Lao Shi asked. "Did grandpa say something funny?"

It took Jake a moment to catch his breath. "Just...just let me get this straight. I'm a minute late for training or I miss a spot cleaning the floor and I get my backside handed to me, but I ditch dragon duties to play hookie in _Scotland_ and you wanna take the heat for me?"

Lao Shi looked at him quizzically. "This is different, I-"

Throwing off his covers, Jake slid out of his bed and embraced his grandfather. "You're something else, Gramps. You know that?"

Briefly stunned, Lao Shi returned the hug and chuckled as well. "I am just glad you are alright. Now, care to explain what you were doing all this time?"

"It's...kind of a long story." Jake stepped away and sat back on his cot. "It was back on New Year's, right, and Dumbledore met up with me in Central Park. He was talking about how he'd seen Chang and came up with this plan to have Stout...Stout!"

The flash of white light, the cracks in the archway, watching Stout being dragged into the inky veil, it all ran through Jake's mind in reverse like a tape jammed in a VCR. He'd been so absorbed with his grandfather, he'd nearly forgotten to ask...

"Where's Benjy? Did anybody find him? What about the Dark Dragon, and that creepy arch, and...and..."

Lao Shi held an unnerving stare with Jake, his expression inscrutable. The look alone spoke volumes, but Jake still waited for Lao Shi to take a deep breath and patiently explain.

"From what Malfoy and the students reported, it appears that Benjamin, Chang, and the Dark Dragon all vanished through the archway. The artifact itself has been destroyed, though no one is certain how or why it happened." He sighed. "At least for now, we are safe."

"So...he's gone. Benjy's really gone." It was as Jake feared, as he'd known things were. He'd seen it all himself, but some stubborn part of him had kept hoping it weren't true.

"I know how you must feel, Jake, and I know you do not wish to hear this, but lives were at risk because of Benjamin. He was just as responsible as Chang and the Dark Dragon-"

"-and me? Even if I didn't mean it, I helped too. But that doesn't mean Benjy deserved it! He only did it to bring his family back, and he even saved me from getting dragged in by the Dark Dragon!" Jake scowled at his hands, the creases still caked with ash. "It...It should've been me."

He had expected some argument or retort, but instead Lao Shi joined Jake on his cot. He sat beside him and placed a hand on Jake's shoulder. "I'm sorry, grandson. I was not aware Stout had other intentions, and you are wise to look beyond the surface." He turned and squinted up at Jake. "Can I ask you a question, Jake?"

Jake shrugged. "Shoot."

"Why do you think Benjamin helped the Dark Dragon?"

The query surprised Jake, mostly because the answer seemed obvious. "It's like I said, he was trying to save his family. The Dark Dragon said he could bring them back if Benjy did his dirty work."

Lao Shi nodded. "That may have been Benjamin's goal, yes, but what drove him to such lengths? What would have been powerful enough to turn him against the magical world?"

Groaning, Jake leaned back and rubbed his eyes in thought. "Come on, G, is this another one of your Chinese proverbs or something? 'Cause I gotta say, I'm so not in the mood right now."

His grandfather chuckled. "Not this time young one. I have no clever sayings for this lesson. It something you must learn on your own."

"Yup, it's a proverb." Abstract thought usually wasn't his cup of tea, but Jake tried to think of some philosophical answer to appease his dragon master. "I don't know Gramps...Loneliness? Hope? Wait, it's _love,_ isn't it?"

Lao Shi nodded with each answer. "Close, but not quite. Let's try again." He pointed a finger at himself. "A week after you disappeared, the Dark Dragon's activities began to escalate. I left New York by myself to search for you, and the first place I visited was England. When my search revealed nothing and Benjamin himself claimed to have no knowledge of your whereabouts, I traveled further still. For months I flew alone throughout the world, crossing oceans and continents in hopes of finding you."

"Gramps..." Knowing that he'd driven his own grandfather to such extremes exaggerated Jake's remorse tenfold. "I never meant to put you through that. And you've seriously been flying for _months?_ That's...stubborn."

"Where do you think you get it from?" Lao Shi smiled. "Even so, I was growing weak and desperate until yesterday, when I finally decided to return to the Isle of Draco."

Jake sat up. "Hang on, if you were back with the Council then how did you show up at the Ministry of Magic?"

Lao Shi tugged back the sleeve of his robes, and Jake was mortified at the sight of the pink jeweled bracelet dangling from his wrist. "I never made it to the Council. You see, I-"

" _You didn't._ " Jake clapped his hands to his head in horror. "Tell me you didn't go to Hong Kong!"

"My grandson goes missing and I need a hunter's help tracking him down, _of course grandpa went to Hong Kong!_ " Lao Shi muttered some garbled Mandarin under his breath. "And it's a good thing I did! Were it not for Rose's dream charm, I may never have found you!"

"And it took you this long to use it? Or did Rose not give you the manual?" A long blue tail materialized from beneath Lao Shi's robes and snapped out, flicking Jake on the forehead. " _Ah!_ Yo, what was that for?!"

"Do not sass your Dragon Master!" Lao Shi snapped. "And I did try, more times than I care to remember, but every time your mind was guarded! Even yesterday, when I made one last attempt to reach you, I had anticipated failure. Yet as I arrived, your mind was open."

"It was? Just like that? Well that's convenient - _ah!_ Enough with the tail!"

Jake's forehead stung where his grandfather had lashed at him again. His tail fading away, Lao Shi said softly, "It was no coincidence. When I entered your dream yesterday, I heard something that guided me through your mind." He smiled at Jake. "It was your voice, and you were asking for help."

Jake felt his cheeks burn and looked away toward the windows, running his fingers through his hair. "Well I...that's, uh..."

"But back to grandpa's story!" Lao Shi hopped off the cot and folded his hands back into his sleeves. "For months I tried to find you. During that time loneliness kept me focused, hope became endurance, and love gave me the strength to keep flying. But do you know what made me leave on a fool's errand, alone and without direction?"

Surprisingly, Jake realized he did know. He knew because his grandfather had already confessed to it, and he knew because he'd felt exactly the same way. "You thought I left because of you."

His grandfather nodded, suddenly looking far older and more tired. "Guilt. _Shame._ I allowed my mistakes to torment me and made choices that were selfish and rash. And in the end, those choices only led to more grief."

The explanation plucked at the strings of Jake's memories. "When Stout was getting me ready to come back here, he told me how he couldn't stop his wife and kid from leaving. And when he explained that they were dead yesterday, he said it was the wizards' fault _._ He said he was working for the Dark Dragon for his family." Jake squinted at Lao Shi, the truth becoming clearer as he spoke. "But it wasn't just to bring them back, or for revenge, was it? It was because he blamed himself."

With great care, Lao Shi slipped the dream charm off of his wrist and placed it in Jake's hand. "Loss is a powerful thing. It can make you stronger, and it can tear you apart. Even when you're an old man like grandpa."

He curled Jake's fingers around the charm. "So please, Jake. Learn to forgive yourself."

In a flash, Jake felt like he was back in the room of mirrors from his dreams, surrounded by glass shards that replayed his countless faults with unbearable clarity. He clenched his eyes shut and clutched the dream charm. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." A breeze brushed against Jake's cheek, and he turned to see Lao Shi standing tall in his blue dragon form. His Dragon Master stared at the ceiling. "Imagine what could have been avoided if the English Dragon had come to terms with his tragedy, or if I had accepted my shortcomings as your Dragon Master."

Jake grimaced. "Or if I hadn't run away like a selfish jerk."

"Running is easy, young dragon. Forgiving is hard." Lao Shi walked toward the curtain and looked back at Jake, his muzzle smoothed into a melancholy smile. "Now that you are awake, I must attend to matters on the Isle of Draco. Something tells me the Dragon Council will be very interested by what has happened."

The spontaneous farewells caught Jake off guard. "Wait, you're leaving already? And why am I stuck here?!"

His grandfather grinned. "Do not worry. From what I understand, the students will be returning to London tomorrow by train. We'll meet there and return to the Isle of Draco, together. In the mean time, rest and think over what I told you."

"Wait, Gramps-"

Lao Shi paused with his claws on the curtain. "Yes?"

"How do I do that? The...forgiving, thing." Jake fought to speak through his embarrassment, still repulsed by the memories drifting through his head. "Every time I think about the stuff I did, it get's even worse. What if...what if I can't do it?"

Lao Shi scoffed. "Preposterous! Who was it that came to your rescue, even when you forbade it? Who was it that gave me the charm that would lead me straight to you?" He pushed open the curtain and stepped through, continuing over his shoulder, "With such caring friends beside you, I am certain you will find a way, young dragon."

Once again, a swell of voices flowed out from beyond the curtain and were immediately silenced as Lao Shi left. In the wake of his departure, Jake still felt uneasy. His grandfather made it sound like shrugging off his greatest insecurities was the easiest thing in the world, but that was precisely what Jake had spent months attempting to do with no success. Maybe he would find the answer with time, but how long could he wait before he made even more disastrous mistakes?

The one comfort to Jake's building headache was his grandfather's parting sentiment. Even when he pushed them away, Jake's friends had ultimately been what saved him. Whether they were old ones like Rose, who he'd helped free from the Huntsclan, or new ones like Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had stuck with him through the likes of shade demons, Umbridge, and Death Eaters...

"UMBRIDGE!" Jake clapped a hand to his mouth and sprinted for the curtain. "She's still in the Den! Yo Gramps, wait-!"

He threw aside the cloth and came to a standstill. Jake wilted as, instead of his grandfather, he found the inquisitive stares Neville, Luna, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, all of whom were lying in cots with outfits similar to his own. They appeared mostly uninjured with only cuts and bruises from what Jake could see, but that gave him little in the way of relief as they all turned at his outburst.

"Uh...hey guys." He gave a half-hearted wave. "Wassup?"

"Jake!" Hermione shot up from her bed and hurried over to embrace him. She wrapped him in a tight hug, but flinched away as he gasped in pain. "Oh, sorry! Are you alright? I didn't mean-"

"No, no, it's fine!" he wheezed, grimacing through the discomfort. "Some pulled muscles, a few broken ribs, nothing major."

Ron jerked up in his bed and glared at him. "And you'll have plenty else broken if you don't keep your hands off her!"

"Yo, you are _not_ still pissed about that whole kissing thing?" Jake snapped. "And you can't tell me what to do! What are you, her keeper?"

The ginger threw off his covers. "Alright, come on then! Just you and me, man to freak!"

"Oh, it's on freckles! I could take you down with one wing tied behind my back!"

"Unbelievable," Ginny muttered from her bed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at Ron. "Enough! You, quit acting like a buffoon and sit down! And you!" She turned on Jake. "Stop encouraging him! As if he'd have a hope of winning anyway."

Jake gaped at her. "But...but he started it!" He found himself smiling as Hermione fell into laughter. "What? What's so funny?"

She shook her head, brushing hair out of her face. "Nothing, it's just..." An edge of sadness mingled in with her smile. "I'm just glad you're alright. We...heard what happened."

"Oh." Jake's chest twinged with sorrow, but he merely shrugged. "I'll be fine, I just need some time to think about it. I mean it all happened so fast...but thanks, for worrying."

A flash of joy crossed Hermione's face before falling back into melancholy. "I just hope Harry is able to cope that well."

Jake furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Why wouldn't he be? Him and Stout weren't exactly BFF's." He looked around the ward and realized the one missing body he'd forgotten to count. "Where is he anyway?"

"Dumbledore's office," Hermione answered, looking equally confused. "You mean Professor McGonagall and Lao Shi didn't tell you?"

"Tell me?" Jake looked between the students, who had all adopted a disturbing solemnity. "Tell me what?"

* * *

The silver paperweight soared and struck the wall, shattering into bits of metal that littered the office floor.

"Harry..."

He snatched a bronze trinket off a shelf, some strange bauble that looked like a multi-leveled set of scales, and hurled it toward the fireplace. It crashed into the ashes, the plates flying loose of the contraption and bouncing out over the stone floor, clamoring like cymbals. Orange light from the rising sun outside flickered from their dented surfaces.

"Why?!"

Harry scowled at the Headmaster who sat at his desk with his phoenix Fawkes dozed on a swing over his head. Harry felt like he was going to burst, uncertain whether his heart would erupt from his chest before his head exploded and covered the room with his fevered brains. His nails dug into his palms, and he began to search for something else to throw.

"Why what?" Dumbledore observed him over the rims of his half-moon glasses, his face a monolith of impossible patience. "Talk to me, Harry. Or do you wish to continue dismantling my possessions? I would understand you if you did."

Harry grabbed the chair meant for him and tossed it aside. "I was there! Right next to him! We were fine, _Sirius_ was fine!" He clawed at his dirty, matted hair. "So why is he gone? _Why?!_ "

Dumbledore was infallibly calm. "He's gone because Bellatrix Lestrange killed him, Harry."

Heat pooled and stung Harry's eyes. He hated himself for it. "But why was he there? He wasn't supposed to be there!"

"He was there to protect you," Dumbledore answered. "He was there because he loved you _._ "

Harry shuffled to a stop. It felt like a great hand were crushing him in the silent aftermath of Dumbledore's words. He'd come to the conclusion that, deep down, he'd known to be true all along.

"Sirius was there because of me." He turned back to the Headmaster. "I'm the reason he's dead."

" _No._ " Dumbledore swept up and around his desk. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "You had nothing to do with this. No, Harry, _listen to me._ Voldemort and his Death Eaters killed Sirius, no one else. And if anyone is to blame for Sirius's involvement, it is me."

Harry eased his struggle against Dumbledore's grip and looked sideways at the old wizard. "You've been gone for weeks! How could any of this be your fault?"

"Because I knew it was going to happen."

"You...what do you mean you _knew_?"

Dumbledore waved his wand, still expressionless, and Harry's chair drifted up from the ground and righted itself. The headmaster returned behind his desk and nodded toward the replaced seat as he took his own. A lingering flame of defiance urged Harry to refuse him, but he couldn't deny the fatigue in his legs and so took his seat. Dumbledore nodded with gratitude.

"One year ago, after your first encounter with Voldemort, you began to experience disturbing dreams. Sirius dismissed them as a harmless manifestation of your grief, but I suspected they were of a more malicious nature. I also surmised that they would only grow worse as Voldemort grew in power, and possibly, I feared, even grant him access to your mind. So, I took precautions."

He slumped a little further in his chair, his fingertips pressed together in thought. "I thought if I distanced myself from you I would avoid drawing Voldemort's attention. Yet it was not enough, and come winter the truth of the matter was revealed, both to you and to Voldemort. My worst fears were being realized, and it was only a matter of time before the Ministry deposed me. If...no, _when_ that happened, there was no telling what Voldemort would do."

"Then why didn't you tell me anything?" Harry rasped, though he felt he already knew the answer. "You didn't trust me, you never did! You thought I was just some stupid bloody fifth-year!"

"Control yourself young man!" a voice heckled above. Harry craned his neck to see the portraits hanging about all listening intently. The tart looking witch that had spoken glared at him through thick-lensed spectacles from one of the nearer frames. "And mind your tongue!"

"No, no, no." Dumbledore leaned onto his desk, pressing a hand through the wrinkles of his forehead. "Any fear, any stress could have triggered a far worse reaction. Divulging the truth was too great a risk, a risk I was spared when I chanced upon Benjamin Stout during a visit to the Ministry. When I mentioned my predicament, he proposed an alternative solution."

The memory of Stout's transfigured arm from yesterday's battle drifted through Harry's mind, along with the near escape he'd had from Umbridge's office. "Stout was a dragon. Just like John - Jake, I mean. It really was you that brought him back?"

"With his permission, of course, but yes. Benjamin told me where I might find him, and Jake agreed with my plan. With him to restrain you and Professor Snape's Occlumency lessons to build your mental defenses, I felt your safety was assured." He breathed heavily and closed his eyes. "How foolish I've become with age. I played right into their scheme."

"You weren't the one tricked by a dream!" Harry blustered. "You didn't go charging straight into a Death Eater trap!"

"But I did, Harry." Dumbledore took off his glasses and laid them on his desk, still focused on them as he spoke. "I was too trusting. The attacks on Hogsmeade and Azkaban would have required Ministry intelligence, but not once did I doubt Benjamin. Instead of protection for you, I gave the enemy leverage. I put my faith in the wrong people, and that mistake almost cost us the prophecy, the Order, the dragons...everything."

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "So all things considered it turned out pretty well, right?"

Long gray hair drifted over Dumbledore's mournful expression. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Right now, I know you must be feeling-"

"No, you don't," Harry said scathingly. He fought to stop the trembling in his chest as he seethed, "Don't pretend like you know how this feels, because you don't! I thought I was doing the right thing, I even checked Grimmauld place before I left! But Sirius died anyway. Occlumency, Jake, the Floo Network, none of it mattered..."

"Of course it mattered," Dumbledore interrupted. "Bellatrix Lestrange had informed Kreacher of Benjamin's plan. He drew Sirius toward the attic with Buckbeak, and answered your call alone to lead you astray."

Rage sparked within Harry for the house elf he'd once shown kindness. "Kreacher lied? But I thought-"

"-that house-elves cannot lie to their masters? True, but he lied to you, not Sirius. Only later when Lao Shi arrived at Grimmauld Place did Sirius question Kreacher and learn the extent of their plan." The Headmaster leaned closer over the length of his desk. "Had you not called, Harry, Kreacher would have had no lie to reveal and Sirius would never have known you and the others were in danger, or worse, he may have gone unprepared. Because of you, members of the Order coordinated in time to stop Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

The sun rose in earnest behind Dumbledore, the bright light silhouetting his exhausted slouch. "Your love for Sirius and your friends was stronger than any protection I could give. In the end, _your love_ was the reason Voldemort could not possess you. And I say all of this because what happened isn't your fault. If nothing else, Harry, you _must_ believe that."

There was a pause, and Harry tried to appreciate what Dumbledore was trying to do. He knew it wasn't fair to assume sole responsibility with so much working against him, but the fact remained that he'd chosen to leave the safety of Hogwarts. He'd put himself in harms way, and Sirius had paid the price.

"I thought they were after a weapon, but it was this all along." Harry slid his hand into his robes and removed the dusty blue orb they'd found addressed to him. It still felt strangely warm in his trembling fingers. "All of this, _Sirius_ , just for this?"

Dumbledore answered with a regretful tone. "I kept you uninformed because I wanted to protect you, Harry. I realize now that I made a mistake, one which I intend never to make again." He held his hand out toward Harry. "The orb, please."

As he handed Dumbledore the glass sphere, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was surrendering a part of himself. The headmaster took it in his hand and held it up in the light, examining the dull object.

"This orb contains a record of a prophecy made to me by Sybill Trelawney many years ago, when you were but a baby. I was not the only one present to hear it, however, and it found its way to Voldemort. It was this prophecy that drove him to kill your parents, and for the past year he has struggled to retrieve it for knowledge on how to do the same to you."

Dumbledore took out his wand, rested the tip over the orb's crusted surface, and watched Harry closely. "If you wish, Harry, I would like you hear it."

Thinking about it, Harry realized he didn't know what he wanted. Between his fatigue and grief, he felt too numb to care about the figurine or its contents. All he knew was that ignoring the prophecy would be a waste of the only thing they'd been given in exchange for Sirius, a notion that only filled him with more guilt. He nodded.

"Very well."

Dumbledore tapped his wand against the orb. A brilliant line of light curved down its side, and the orb split neatly into two perfect halves. Drifting up from the casing, a cloud of glowing blue smoke tumbled and churned into a shade of the Professor Trelawney's tremulous, spectacled face. Harry felt himself drawn to the edge of his seat, a foreboding dread coming over him as the apparition's mouth cracked open.

And then she spoke.

* * *

The Great Hall was filled with the din of chatting students, enjoying breakfast and merrily conversing about their vacations to come. There were no exams to prepare for, no assignments to complete, and the House Cup was claimed and out of reach. Slytherin's triumph did little to dampen the atmosphere, however, and it was plain to see the carefree hopes of summer hanging over the school.

Jake observed it all from the farthest corner of the room, accompanied at his table by Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Neville. After suffering a day in the unyielding care of Madam Pomfrey, they had been set free of the Hospital Wing to enjoy their last morning of the semester. Yet even as he watched their classmates laugh under a bright, enchanted ceiling, Jake couldn't feel an ounce of joy in their group.

Neville was the first to look up from his cold food. "Wonder how Harry's doing."

Ginny shrugged, tapping a knife against the table. "He probably wants to be alone."

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Harry never visited the Hospital Wing, and they had yet to see him since they'd arrived at the Great Hall. It left them all concerned, and the worst part was Jake knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"Cheeseburgers."

Hermione squinted at Jake. "Pardon?"

"Cheeseburgers," he repeated, grimacing as he pushed a fork through his plate of beans, eggs, and sausage. "First thing I'm gonna do when I get home is get a cheeseburger with fries and a shake. No offense, but I won't miss the _Hogwarts cuisine_ one bit."

"And here I thought dragons went for cattle and royalty," Ron quipped.

Jake leaned over the table and hissed, "I am seriously _this close_ to dropping you off the Astronomy Tower, Weasel-boy. And try to keep it down, okay? The whole 'dragon' thing is still _mostly_ a secret, and I kinda want to keep it that way."

"Or what, lizard breath? You'll toss me in some dungeon?" Ron snapped back. Overhead, the ceiling rang with screeches and hoots as the daily flood of owls poured in through the rafters, descending on tables with package laden talons.

"Hey, I'm not above slipping you a little memory potion if you start blabbing," Jake said, looking around at the others as well. "That goes for all of you. Snitches get stitches, ya heard?"

"You cheeky-"

"Oh no."

Jake looked sideways at Hermione, who had just unraveled her delivered newspaper and begun to read the front page. "Oh no? That doesn't sound good."

She showed him the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ and looked over her shoulder at the other tables of students. "You might want to put the collar back on, just to be safe."

He understood her concern as soon as he saw the enormous article heading reading "YOU-KNOW-WHO HAS RETURNED" with pictures of their ransacked Ministry just below. They flattened the papers over the table and crowded around it, and Jake sifted through the eye-witness accounts, the reports of a Death Eater plot against Harry Potter and Dumbledore, and the official response from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There was even a casual mention of a certain Department Head's mysterious disappearance, yet in all of it Jake found no mention of the Dragons of Draco Isle or the Dark Dragon. He counted it as a blessing, albeit a small one.

"We knew this would happen eventually," Ginny sighed.

"I'm surprised they even delayed it this long." Hermione said. "Still...one more day would have been nice."

There was a clinking of glass, and Jake peaked up from the table. The hall had fallen into revered silence as the other students read over their own copies of the _Daily Prophet_. He couldn't imagine how most of them were reacting, if they were terrified, angry, or doubtful, but already a few heads had turned in their direction. They were looking to catch a glimpse of the boy who they'd called a liar for almost a year, whose only crime had been receiving visions he'd never asked for.

It was then that a thought occurred to Jake, and he realized that maybe there was something he _could_ do for Harry.

Ron flinched away from Jake as he hurriedly flung his legs over the bench and stood from the table. "Oi! Just where do you think you're going?"

"I've done the whole 'watching everyone stare at you' thing, not a big fan," Jake said. He turned and paced out of the hall, slipping his training collar out of his pocket and dropping it over his neck. The tingling weight that came with it was barely noticeable.

The castle was devoid of life, far emptier than Jake had ever seen it before. In only a few hours, its inhabitants would be crammed into a scarlet train and taken away from the moors and fields of Scotland, and nothing of their presence would remain within the ancient walls. Jake climbed up the empty stairs and felt a certain sadness about his scenery, as though he were watching some great creature wilting away.

He was just passing the third floor landing when Dumbledore appeared around the corner. "Ah, Jake. I was hoping I'd run into you."

Dressed in his usual violet robes and cap with his beard hanging freely down to his waist, the Headmaster seemed unchanged by recent events. He had remained as distant from the Hospital Wing as Potter, and before now Jake had not considered searching for him. Still, given that he'd ultimately failed to guard Harry and the others, it was only natural the old wizard would expect an explanation. Jake moved to remove his necklace, but Dumbledore raised a hand to assuage him.

"No need, Jake. I only wish to apologize for involving you and your grandfather in our affairs, and to thank you. Your efforts over these past months have been more valuable than you can imagine." He lifted an arm up and reached within the folds of his cloak. "I also thought you may be interested in what I recovered from the Department of Mysteries."

He withdrew his hand and offered its contents to Jake: his wand, and a small leather book with singed edges. Jake took the wand that had saved his life and stowed it in his pocket, and then took the damaged Replitome. Though the cover had seen better days, the pages inside were perfectly intact. They turned easily as Jake flipped through Stout's Replitome, smiling despite himself at the arguments and banter he'd shared with the English Dragon.

"I have one last thing, a favor to ask." Dumbledore chuckled at Jake's abrupt look of exasperation. "No need to worry, this one is quite simple. When the World Dragon Council asks for your recount of events, as I am sure they will, I want you to be completely honest about my actions."

Jake shook his head in protest. Revealing Dumbledore's plan, despite its good intentions, was a sure fire way of destroying any trust they'd managed to build with the wizards. It was an outcome Jake wouldn't accept, even if it meant he'd have to take the blame himself.

Dumbledore, however, appeared unconcerned. "This is how it must be, Jake. Witches and wizards are about to enter a trying time, and the Dragons of Draco Isle have already suffered enough for our follies. For the time being, it is best that we remain estranged." He bent down lower and spoke softly into Jake's ear. "But know that your invitation still stands. Should you ever need to return, Hogwarts will welcome you back with open arms."

The Headmaster brushed past him and down the stairs toward the Great Hall. He halted a few steps down. "Oh, and thank you for taking such good care of Madam Umbridge. Unfortunately, she is still recovering from shock at St. Mungo's psychiatric ward. Something to do with monsters and shadows in the Dragon's Den."

With that, he turned and walked out of sight. The man was a mystery to Jake, but he couldn't deny the logic of his request. Still, it was a matter Jake had some time to think on, so he slid the extra Replitome into his robe pocket and resumed his climb toward Gryffindor Tower.

As he neared, The Fat Lady turned in her frame and grimaced. "Oh, it's you. Well what's the password written on today? A dirty handkerchief? The sleeve of your shirt?"

Jake rolled his eyes and took off his training collar. " _Deo volente._ Now hurry up, would ya? I'm kinda in a hurry."

Her eyes popped open beneath her curly hair. After watching her gape listlessly for a few seconds, Jake sighed and pushed his way into the tunnel beyond. The common room was as empty as the rest of the castle, and Jake paused just long enough to look over the familiar cushions and furnishings before heading toward the dormitories. He hadn't been sure where to find Harry, but his gut instinct was rewarded as he heard his voice outside their dorm room.

"Sirius!...Sirius Black!... _Sirius Black!_ "

Jake pushed open the door and instinctively flung his arms out. His manipulation caught a square object flying toward him mid air, and he carefully lowered it into his hands. It was a small mirror, about the same size as his Replitome with a thick border and dusty surface. Jake looked up from his reflection to see Harry standing beside his bed, panting and glaring at him with pained rage.

"Woah, careful there Potter," Jake called, waving the object. "You almost bought yourself seven years of bad luck."

Harry turned away from him and sat on his bed, resting his head in his hands. As he sat motionless, Jake looked around at the uncommonly clean room. Dean and Seamus had already removed all of their belongings, and Harry's area was nearly as pristine. The only thing left was an open trunk at the foot of his bed.

Jake stepped forward and offered the mirror to Harry. "So what's the deal with this thing anyway?"

It took a moment for Harry to uncover his face and limply accept the fixture. "It's a magic mirror," he said. "Sirius...he gave it to me during holiday so I could talk to him, in case I had trouble with Snape's lessons. I forgot about it though, I only just unwrapped it."

Jake looked more intently at the mirror. "So, when I heard you saying his name-?"

"It's how you activate it," he explained. He scowled and glared again at Jake. "I know he's gone, okay? I just thought that if I...maybe he'd..."

"I know what you mean, dude." Jake dug in his pocket and pulled out his training collar. He showed it to Harry. "Stout was the one who gave this to me, to help me stay undercover. Every time I see it I think of him, even though he's not around anymore. Here, give me your hand. I wanna try something."

Curious, Harry lifted his hand and Jake gripped it in his own. Jake held his other hand above Harry's mirror. "Okay, I've never tried this before but something tells me it'll work. Think of some time you were with your Sirius dude. Try to make it something important, like when you cast that light shield spell. What is it, the Pamotus Charm?"

"Patronus," Harry corrected. "But why-"

Jake shook his head. "No questions, just trust me."

Harry considered it for a moment and closed his eyes in thought, holding still as if in prayer. Some time passed where his face twitched and tilted before he squeezed Jake's hand and nodded.

"Here goes nothing." Jake imagined his dragon chi flowing through him, from one arm to the other, and tapped a finger against Harry's mirror.

The glass surface rippled beneath his touch, and Jake held his breath as he watched the undulating wave spread over the mirror and turn it into churning black. Then, from the shifting surface, a picture arose that he did not recognize. All he could see was two dirty hands clinging tightly to a coat of fine white feathers.

Harry gasped at the sight. "That's-!"

In the mirror, the perspective changed as Harry's past self looked up and over his shoulder. Jake could see the large feathered wings of whatever creature he was riding beating in a dark night sky, and perched just behind him was a gaunt and ragged version of the man he knew to be Sirius Black. In this memory he was emaciated and poorly groomed as a wild beast, yet he looked nothing short of ecstatic. A wide grin of pure bliss split his pocked face, and a roar of fervent laughter escaped him as he lifted his hands to the stars above.

The memory went on for a minute or so before slowly fading away. Harry stared at mirror after it had gone, stunned into a awed silence. "Jake...I..."

Jake let go of his hand and pointed to the mirror. "Remember him like that, or however you want to. Just don't forget him."

He hadn't been sure how Harry would react to the memory, but his words seemed to reach him. Harry grabbed a crumpled sheet of parchment nearby and wrapped it around the mirror, placing the package carefully at the top of his trunk. He lowered the lid and clasped it shut, and when he stood again his shoulders sagged just a bit less than before.

"Thanks," he breathed. "And...I'm sorry. I should have listened to you when-"

"Nope, nuh-uh, no more apologies!" Jake snapped. He split away toward his own bed, tossing dirty shirts and stray materials into his own suitcase. "I'm sorry, you're sorry, everybody's sorry, _enough already._ Only thing I'm worried about right now is finally getting out of these goth clothes. I don't know how y'all ever get used to them, I swear I've had a wedgie for the past-"

"Are you excited?"

He looked back at Harry, his hand buried in the cluttered mess of his suitcase. "Excited for what?"

Harry nodded to his haphazard packing with a knowing look. "Going home, being with your family. It must have been lonely, not being with the other dragons for months."

At first Jake wanted to agree. He'd felt far from welcome before Hermione had learned the truth, and even then it wasn't the same as when he'd been able to hang with Nerk and Haley. But then he remembered his moments with the DA, studying for exams with the Gryffindors and learning how to fly on a broom, and he realized that he didn't regret a second of it.

"Ha, you kidding?" He pulled his robes over his head and smiled back at Harry. "I had the time of my life."

* * *

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives..._

Harry shook himself out of his trance, and Professor Trelawney's voice faded away.

The sun blared and birds chirped as he shuffled along with the crowd of students. Ahead Harry could see the train platform with the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express, steam already rising from its smoke stack. He absentmindedly ran a hand over his scar, which hadn't so much as twinged since the attack at the Ministry. All around him students conversed in low voices, and more than once Harry heard his name whispered in hushed tones.

The latest _Daily Prophet_ and its recount of Voldemort's return was the only topic of discussion. In some ways it was nice to have finally been redeemed in the eyes of his peers, but Harry still disliked the excessive attention and gossip. Despite the inconvenience of it, he knew it was a step in the right direction. Now, the wizarding community could recognize the threat Voldemort posed in full and work to stop him. Their world had been changed forever.

And yet as he looked around, Harry realized that it really hadn't. His heart ached for Sirius, his mind reeled with the insurmountable challenges of his preordained fate, but there was still ground beneath his feet, still clouds drifting in the sky. The world was still spinning as though nothing had changed, and if Harry wanted to have a chance of living up to the prophecy, of meeting the destiny set out before him, then so would he.

He had nearly reached the stone platform when someone pushed him aside and toward a dirt side road. Harry stumbled back and turned to see Malfoy scowling at him venomously with Crabbe and Goyle just off to his sides.

"You're going to pay, Potter, just like Black!" Malfoy seethed, slowly drawing his wand from his pocket. "The Ministry tore our house apart, shipped my father off to Azkaban! All because of you!"

Harry answered clearly, "Funny, I don't remember putting that dark mark on his arm."

Malfoy's wand arm twitched back before a deep voice boomed just behind him. "I'd be more careful if I were you, Malfoy, or you'll end up right next to yer dad!"

The three Slytherins whirled around to face the towering form of Hagrid, covered in his usual skins and staring down at them through a thick head of shaggy brown hair. Malfoy sneered, "Is that a threat, you filthy half-breed?"

"Oh, no threats. See, I've been to Azkaban me'self." Hagrid leaned further down, swallowing them in his shadow. "And believe me, yer snake of a father deserves every bit of it."

Malfoy glared at him briefly before stomping away through the dirt. Crabbe and Goyle followed him to the platform, and Hagrid grumbled as they left. "Rotten seeds the lot o' them. I gotta say, I'm not sure I got it in me to keep teachin' kids like them."

"If they don't take your N.E.W.T. class next year, you won't have to," Harry said. He smiled up at the half-giant gamekeeper. "You're back at Hogwarts already?"

Hagrid nodded with a sheepish smile. "Well I had to see you off, didn't I? Couldn't let you go without making sure you had everything in order, so to speak."

Instead of the usual tightness in his chest, Harry felt lightened by Hagrid's concern. "I'm fine, Hagrid, really. And thanks."

There was a hesitance in Hagrid's grin, but the whistle of the train pierced their conversation and brought him to attention. "That time already? Blimey, Harry, you'll miss the train!"

Harry gave no arguments, and together they hustled to the platform. Joining the other stragglers, Harry gave one last wave to Hagrid and slipped into the train's narrow corridor. All of the compartments were filled as he peered inside them, occasionally receiving the same startled stares from before, but soon enough he found the occupants he'd been searching for.

He slid open the compartment door as Ron burst out incredulously, "That's bollocks, we wouldn't have even been close to winning if it weren't for me!"

In the seat across from him by the window, Jake scoffed, "As if, Carrot Top. The person who _won_ the match is the one that made the _winning_ goal. Oh, right...that's _me._ "

"Oh, because carrots are orange like my hair, that's _so clever-_ "

"Harry!" Hermione chimed loudly, waving him into the compartment. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd arrive. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fi-" He lurched forward onto the seat beside Ron as the cart jerked into motion. "I'm fine, just fine. And Ron, I don't think it's got to do with actual carrots."

"Oh don't you start too."

They shared a nervous laugh, and several more throughout their journey. Harry thought about sharing the prophecy with the others, but something told him it wasn't the right time. Instead, they argued and reminisced, joked and teased, and all the while an inescapable tension surrounded them. At first Harry was annoyed, thinking that they were still tiptoeing around the subject of Sirius, but when Jake even seemed lackluster while demonstrating his partial transformations, he realized what they were really avoiding.

The fields outside were beginning to grow sparse when Hermione said to the three of them, "Make sure to write over the break. Three times a week at least."

"Right," Harry and Ron both muttered.

She turned to Jake, who was staring out the window and biting on his thumb. "I'll have to learn how to send international mail through the post. That'll be exciting, right?"

"I was just thinking the same thing." He smirked and twisted back toward her. "But I've got a _better_ idea."

Before she could ask, Jake grabbed his green backpack from the overhead rack and yanked it down. He dug through one of the pockets and retrieved two small, nearly identical journals. He handed the less damaged of the two to Hermione. "Holla, two-way medieval walkie talkies. Way better than paying for all those stamps."

She took the book with poorly contained interest. "Your Replitome? So then that one-"

"-was Stout's, yeah. Dumbledore fished it outta the Ministry for me." Jake shrugged. "It'd kinda be a waste not to use it, right?"

Hermione tilted her journal open, visibly flustered. "It's a wonderful thought, Jake, but is it...right? I only mean there's already so much in here, between you and Stout..."

"Good point, let me take care of that." Jake grabbed Hermione's Replitome back and turned to the first page. "This'll just take a sec."

He grabbed a handful of pages covered in notes and ripped them free of the spine. Hermione stared wide eyed like she were watching a murder unfold as he tore out page after page from her Replitome, and then started over again with his own.

Ron looked sideways at Harry. "Complete nutter, just like I said."

Hermione was aghast. "But... _why_..."

The used up pages crumpled in his hand, Jake reached for the clasps to the window and slid the glass pane aside. He leaned into the wind that gusted through their compartment and casually flung the papers out into the breeze. Harry shied away from the blustering gale until Jake snapped the window closed again.

He sighed, dropped back into his seat, and handed back Hermione's Replitome. "I don't need copies of what's already a part of me. Besides, who wants to be stuck reading the same old story when we could be writing a new one?" Jake looked at Harry. "It was time to let go."

There wasn't much left to say between them, and they had little time left even if there were. The train was losing speed and their view was growing more crowded with the buildings and complexes of London. Even though he knew it was only temporary, the impending separation from his friends twisted Harry's stomach into knots like it did every year. Trying to appreciate their last moments together did nothing to slow the passage of time, however, and before he knew it they were walking out onto Platform 9 3/4.

"Good afternoon, young dragon."

"Yo, what's hangin' G?"

A short old man in blue robes weaved into the students and their carts to walk beside Jake. He nodded to the rest of them. "Once again, you have my thanks for watching over my grandson Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley."

Ron looked at him cross-eyed. "Lao Shi? You're joking. Are all the dragons short or something?"

Lao Shi didn't seem to hear him. "The Council is expecting us, Jake. We have little time."

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Jake turned to Hermione with a somber look. "This is it guys, but peep game. You ever need anything, you let me know. New York isn't exactly the most low-key place in the world, but you're welcome anytime. Even you, Weasley."

They passed through the barrier to King's Cross Station, and Hermione pulled Jake into a quick hug on the other side. "We'll stay in touch, promise."

"And Jake," Lao Shi interrupted, looking uncomfortable. "I feel I should apologize in advance..."

Jake looked down at him questioningly. "Apologize? For what-?"

"JACOB LUKE LONG!"

Everyone within earshot flinched and moved aside as an older couple stomped across the platform. Jake paled noticeably. "Oh that's messed up, old man."

They came to a stop in front of their group. The man in the khaki's, button-up, and tie planted his clenched hands on his hips and glared at Jake. "Well? Care to explain yourself young man?"

"Moms! Pops!" Jake chuckled nervously. "I missed you guys like crazy! And I can _totally_ explain, see - aaAAGHHOWOWOWOWOW"

The woman snatched Jake's ear in a vice-grip and yanked him away down the platform. "You bet your patootie you will! And then you're going to your room, because you're grounded for the next _year!_ "

"No TV! No video games! No music!" the man added as he and Lao Shi followed after them. "The only thing you've got to look forward to is lots and lots of summer school, little mister! Homework, reading, essays...!"

Before they vanished into the crowd completely, Jake looked back at them and gave one last wave of farewell. Ron laughed beside Harry, "Were those his _parents?_ Merlin's beard am I glad that - oh bloody hell."

Mrs. Weasley appeared beside them and promptly gripped Ron by the arm, oblivious to his squeak of pain. "There you are Ronald! What on _Earth_ were you thinking, putting yourself in danger like that? Just wait, when we get home your father and I are- oh, Harry dear, how are you? I'm so sorry about...about..."

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine," he answered automatically. She still looked at him with concern, but attempted a hopeful smile.

"We'll have you at the Burrow first chance we get, and Dumbledore's said we can take you to the service in a few days time." She patted his cheek gently and then hurried off, dragging Ron behind her. "Now help me find your sister! Honestly, the two of you..."

Hermione laughed after him before turning to Harry. "My parents are waiting as well. Remember to-"

"-write, yes Hermione, for the hundredth time." He hugged her goodbye. "See you in a couple months."

He waited for her to reluctantly drift toward her mother and father before pushing his trolley further down the platform. With his trunk and Hedwig in her cage, he felt like a wanderer leaving his home behind him. It brought a sense of emptiness that he felt every summer, and this time he wasn't sure how well he'd be able to keep it at bay. Yet when he laid eyes on the hunched, jittery forms of the Dursleys, it was with a surge of pleasant surprise.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

Tonks, Remus, and Mad-Eye Moody all stood stoically beside his muggle family. Mad-Eye glowered at Mr. Dursley, who cringed at the sight of his swiveling glass eye, while Remus and Tonks greeted him with warm smiles. They were the same ones that Sirius always found when he and Harry would meet, and Harry remembered the wisdom Jake had given him.

Remus nodded toward him. "Alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, I will be," he answered, and this time he really meant it. Sirius was still there, and he always would be as long as Harry remembered him.

He would never forget that.


	32. Epilogue

The sound of a hammer smacking on wood echoed throughout the court-like chamber. Spectators turned away from their low conversations and sat still in the rows of benches, some choosing to appear as humans and others as dragons. It was only a fraction of the Dragon Order, the number who were available to answer the summons to the Isle of Draco on such short notice, but the emergent nature of the hearing meant they hadn't been able to wait for more to arrive.

"Quiet! Quiet down!" Councilor Andam called, banging his gavel from the high seats of the Dragon Council. He shuffled his notes and looked to the other councilors at his sides, waiting for their approval to continue. "Well, this has certainly been an unexpected couple of hours. The Council has completed its deliberation, but before concluding we would like to summarize what we've discussed thus far. Do you two find this acceptable?"

Below at the front of the assembly, Jake and Lao Shi stood side by side in their dragon forms. For the better part of the afternoon, they had recounted the events of the past few months. Jake wasn't sure which was more tired, his legs or his voice. He shrugged to his grandfather, who nodded with equal exhaustion. "We do, councilors."

"Very well then." Councilor Andam slid on a pair of reading glasses, picked up a pad of paper, and sighed. "American Dragon, you were approached by Albus Dumbledore, a wizard whom you had become acquainted with during your previous mission to Hogwarts, on New Year's Eve. This wizard proceeded to coerce you into abandoning your duties as the American Dragon and going undercover as a student at his school, in exchange for the capture of then traitor Ex-Councilor Chang. As part of this arrangement, you were also prevented from informing or contacting your Dragon Master, family, or anyone from the Dragon Order. Is this correct?"

Jake nodded. "Pretty much, yo-"

" _American Dragon..._ "

" _Yes_ , Councilor Andam. That is correct."

"Thank you." He turned a few pages and cleared his throat. "You then proceeded to follow this agreement, acting as a student at Hogwarts for the purpose of protecting its students from what Dumbledore perceived to be the threat of dark wizards. This continued for several months until the events at the British Ministry of Magic took place. During that time, despite your apparent precautions, no less than _six_ underage wizards, one professor, and possibly one or more of said dark wizards became aware of your identity." He leaned further over his stand to frown at Jake. "Is this correct?"

Jake cringed. "Yes...that's correct."

"And the English Dragon had no knowledge of this?" Andam asked. "Neither you nor Dumbledore-?"

"No!" Jake lowered his voice and stammered, "I mean no, he...he didn't know anything. Not until the attack at the Ministry, after Gramps showed up."

Councilor Andam nodded and turned to Councilor Kulde, who spoke up next. "Lao Shi, upon the disappearance of your Dragon Student, you began a search for him lasting one week. Following its failure, you also abandoned your duties to continue searching alone for several months before you rescued him from the British Ministry of Magic. Not once did you inform the Dragon Council of your intentions or whereabouts beyond a single meeting with the Australian Dragon, whom you wrongly swore to secrecy. This, you state, was to prevent the Dark Dragon from discovering your Dragon Student's location. Is this correct?"

Lao Shi bowed beside Jake, unflinching. "That is correct, councilor."

"And do either of you have anything else you wish to bring forward to the Council?"

The two shared a look, and Jake raised his head. "No."

Councilor Andam nodded. "Then let us move on to sentencing."

A murmur ran through the crowd behind them. Jake felt the sweat dripping over his scales and focused forward, refusing to look away as Councilor Kulde stood with a stern look.

"Three dragons are dead," he announced clearly. "Two of them were fugitives; both traitors to the Dragon Order, both grave threats to the Magical World. Long have we dreamed of the day when they were finally detained, but instead of celebration that day has come with mourning. The English Dragon is gone, and he left behind a legacy of commitment and dedication far exceeding the highest standards of the Dragon Order."

Councilor Kukulkhan pushed away from his stand and stood as well. "American Dragon and Dragon Long, your actions have demonstrated an unacceptable degree of recklessness, negligence, and irresponsibility. Had you followed the codes of the Dragon Order and fulfilled your duties appropriately, Benjamin Stout may still be alive. It is indeed _miraculous_ that his was our only loss, a fact that should not be lost on either of you."

He raised his voice to reach every ear in the room. "Adding this to the American Dragon's clear breach of secrecy, as well as the charges of misconduct, disorder, and obstruction of the Dragon Order caused by your intentional absences, there can be no question of punishment."

It was the worst of Jake's imagined outcomes, but still one that he'd seen coming. He knew, however, that he'd made the right choice. It was the only way he'd thought of reconciling his past mistakes, and he'd take whatever consequences it entailed.

Jake stepped forward. "I understand, and...I just want to say-"

"However," Kulde interrupted with a weary expression. "Yours were not the only actions to result in these events. Albus Dumbledore withheld crucial information from the Council and obviously had knowledge that threatened your safety and identity. Under this duress, it it understandable why you would concede to his wishes, American Dragon. The same holds true for you as well, Dragon Long. Your decision to withhold information from the Order for the sake of your Dragon Student, while misguided, was not unreasonable."

"There are also the schemes of the Dark Dragon, Ex-Councilor Chang, and the dark wizards to consider," Councilor Andam added. "The destructive potential of the two groups cooperating is unthinkable. Had the two of you not intervened, their plans may have reached completion and resulted in an even greater loss of life. None can predict what could have been, but the truth is this: the two of you have saved several witches and wizards, untold numbers of magical creatures, and the entire Dragon Order from its greatest adversaries in centuries."

Jake turned uncertainly to Lao Shi and back. "So...are we in trouble or what?"

Councilor Kulde perked an eyebrow at him. "Our decision is this. Witches and Wizards will be re-categorized as a primary threat, and all interactions with them restricted to their previous levels. Given his years of exemplary performance, unfaltering courage, and unquestioning selflessness, Benjamin Stout will be posthumously awarded the Golden Flame, the highest accolade available to any World Dragon. Finally, given that he was the last dragon in his domain, the responsibility for the English Dragon's territories shall fall to the Irish Dragon until a more permanent solution can be devised."

"As for you two," Andam intoned ominously. "Each of you shall receive one year of probation for your blatant lapses in judgement. Both of you will immediately return to New York and resume your duties, and be warned: the Council will be monitoring you very closely. Put one _claw_ out of line, and you will both wish we'd simply taken your dragon powers here and now. Are we clear?"

Lao Shi reached out and tapped Jake's sagging maw closed. "Yes councilors, we understand."

"Then we are adjourned." Andam pounded his gavel. "Thank you all for your time. And if we forgot to say it before...it's good to have you two back."

Lao Shi bowed deeply. "And we are glad to be back. We will take our leave...Jake?"

Benches scraped and claws clacked as everyone began filing out of the room. As the air grew heavy with conversation, Jake struggled to tear his gaze away from the now empty stands above them. "That's it?"

"Indeed. You are disappointed?"

"Probation?" Jake raised his hands in annoyed bemusement. "No soul-sucking? No prison tours? Am I missing something or did we totally just get away scot-free?"

"I admit I'm surprised. Not by the Dragon Council, but by you." Lao Shi folded his arms and gave Jake a searching look. "Why did you not tell the truth about Benjamin? We may have avoided even probation."

"Yeah, but they would have dragged Benjy's name through the mud." Jake couldn't help but smile fondly as he though of the man. "The guy made a few mistakes, but he saved our _lives,_ Gramps. He deserves to be remembered as a hero, especially if we don't even get any jail time for it!"

Lao Shi chuckled. "You forget, young dragon. You already have a prison waiting at home."

A voice called out behind them. "And don't expect to get just a slap on the wrist the next time you decide to rack off without telling anyone!"

Jake smirked and turned to face the approaching yellow dragon. "I don't remember inviting you, Kangaroo Jack. And let's be real, if I ever skip town again you'll be the _last_ one to know."

"Too true." They bumped knuckles and laughed together, Fred shaking his head at Jake. "But seriously, no postcard? Not even an owl, or whatever those pommies have lying around? A quick ' _yo Fred, it's Jake and I'm still alive!_ ' would have been nice."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear? Wizards are back to being off-limits, so you won't have to worry about that for a while."

"How'll that work out, you think?" Fred huffed. "The UK's just starting to heat up from what I've heard. You think they'll be fine without us?"

Jake lead the way toward the exit, considering the question. "You know, I'm not that worried. The Dark Dragon was the one that started all that bad business between us a long time ago, and he's the one that started it again this time. Things will get worked out sooner or later now that he's out of the picture."

"And until then?"

"They'll manage." They walked out into the warm tropical air, and Jake looked over the peaceful landscape of the island. "Believe it or not, they're a lot tougher now than when we first got there. We left a pretty good impression on them. Speaking of which, I sorta owe you for those magic fireworks you left in the Dragon's Den."

Fred smacked himself in the forehead. "So _that's_ where I left those! Well, no drama, how many'd you set off? Two? Three?"

"All of them."

"All... _all_..." His eye twitched and tongues of blue flame licked out from his snarling maw. "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I HAD TO SAVE FOR THAT WHOLE CRATE?!"

"Well whatever you paid was worth it, cause those babies were off the chain," Jake promised, leaning away from the Australian Dragon's building rage. "But hey, I brought something to make up for it!"

Fred growled. "If it's not a pot full of Leprachaun gold..."

"Even better!" Jake waved over toward the temple doorway where he'd left his bulging backpack. He manipulated it into his hands and unzipped the largest pocket. "Last day before I left Hogwarts, I may or may not have made a pit stop at the Quidditch pitch changing rooms..."

Fred's scowl shifted to skepticism as he watched Jake remove the dimpled maroon ball from his backpack. "Is that-?"

"Yup. One Quaffle, one hundred percent authentic and original!" Jake lobbed the ball to Fred. "What do you say we head over to the training area, set up a couple floating rings, and see who the better dragon is?"

Fred tossed the Quaffle in the air a couple of times, a look of playful excitement pulling at his scaled cheeks. "Hurting that bad to see me wipe the floor with you? Alright, Long, let's have a go."

Lao Shi put a hand on Jake's shoulder. "As your Dragon Master, I must remind you of our need to return to New York City as quickly as possible. Arriving late would also do little to improve your parents' mood."

"Think of it this way, Gramps. You said I needed to work on forgiveness, and that's what I'm doing. If I go make some mistakes, then I can forgive myself for them later!"

"That's not-"

"Glad we're on the same page!" Jake turned back to Fred. "Ready to be humiliated, _Nerk_ , or do you - HEY!"

His competitor was already soaring in the direction of the training grounds, laughing as he flew. "Betcha I can get there first!"

"Yo, wait-! _A_ _w man_ _._ " Jake leaped into the air and chased after the Australian Dragon, intent on working out months of pent up energy. He felt rough, sloppy, and out of practice, and he realized just how far he'd fallen behind by wandering around, pretending to be something he wasn't.

But now Jake was back, and he had a lot of catching up to do.

* * *

The Atrium was abuzz with frantic activity. Witches and wizards in Ministry robes bustled between stations, trading files and tossing new interdepartmental memos into the stream of paper airplanes whizzing above them. Facilities were being repaired, departments restructured, and reports distributed, all in response to Voldemort's return.

It was exactly the change Dumbledore had hoped for. He only wished it had come a year sooner.

Dumbledore sifted through the commotion, occasionally bumping into workers too busy to respond with more than a passing grunt. The crowd thickened the closer he came to the lifts at the end of the Atrium, but he saved a few steps by walking through the Fountain of Magical Brethren's taped of remains. Only rubble remained of the statues and the basin was still empty, but he didn't stop to look at it. The memories the sight brought back were too fresh.

The golden lift grills slid open. Dumbledore stepped into the empty box and waved them shut again, closing his eyes as the lift jerked into motion. There was still so much for him to do, so much left to prepare, and yet every day seemed to pass faster than the last. He couldn't afford to dwell on the emotions that still haunted him.

" _Level Nine: Department of Mysteries._ "

A hooded figure in black robes awaited him as he stepped out of the lift. "Good evening, Dumbledore."

"And to you, Mr. Croaker. Shall we?"

"Yes, yes." The man about-faced and led Dumbledore down the ebony hallway, still scarred and cracked from battle. "We shall be brief, I know you are sorely needed these days."

"That's very thoughtful, though you need not worry. It's not often I have the pleasure of speaking with an Unspeakable."

"I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," Croaker wheezed, holding the black door at the end of the hall open for him. "I couldn't help but notice your attire. A wedding, perhaps?"

Dumbledore followed into the circular room beyond, glancing at his own formal robes and shoes. "A funeral, actually."

"Ah, fitting then." The Unspeakable closed the door and called out, "The Death Chamber, please!"

They watched the doors spin around them briefly before coming to a halt. The passage in front of them opened, and the two stepped through. They passed through the following hallway and came upon a massive chamber that looked as ancient as time itself. Like a coliseum, tiers of stone seats surrounded a central pit, in which there was a raised dirt mound.

Croaker led him forward, gesturing toward the mound. "There, you see?"

The last time Dumbledore had seen this chamber, it had been littered with unconscious Death Eaters and fragments of a large stone arch. The structure had been thoroughly shattered, far beyond anything Dumbledore considered reparable, yet now there stood the beginnings of its two pillars. They couldn't be more than a foot tall each, both surrounded by several more Unspeakables silently raising more fragments to their fractured ends.

As Dumbledore watched, one of the Unspeakable's fragments flew from their fingertips and snapped into place on the archway to mold with the stone. The cracks faded until the piece was nothing more than another part of the pillar, now one fragment more complete.

"It's repairing itself," Dumbledore muttered.

"Marvelous, is it not?" Croaker led him closer to the structure, explaining giddily, "We were sweeping away the pieces when we noticed that some were, well, _fusing_ together by themselves! We think some form of Old Magic from one of the dragons was responsible for destroying the artifact. Theirs is as powerful a magic as any, but something even _stronger_ is bringing it back together!"

Dumbledore nodded along, observing the work of the Unspeakables. "As fascinating as this is, Saul, I'm still not sure exactly why I'm here."

The shorter man wrung his hands together. "Our research into the archway was minimal at best, but the legends of its capabilities are well documented. Magical creatures were able to harness its magic long ago, a magic that could be used against You-Know-Who!"

"Or _for_ him."

"Come again?"

Dumbledore waved it off. "It's nothing, merely thinking aloud."

Croaker cleared his throat. "Yes, well, you can understand our interest in repairing the object. Normally we would consult with the Minister in such matters, but since Fudge has resigned and we have yet to elect a new one..."

"You thought to consult me instead," Dumbledore guessed, smiling. "You flatter me, Mr. Croaker."

Dumbledore climbed the remaining distance toward the arch and the group of Unspeakables. He approached one and held his hand out. "May I?"

The cloaked figure jumped at his question. "Oh, er...s-sure, here."

Dumbledore accepted her fragment and turned it in his hand. He felt its rough edges, noticing a strange oily texture to the dry surface. Then he held it up to his ear and closed his eyes. At first there was nothing, but soon there came the faintest of noises. It was a brush of a whisper, like a voice carried in a breeze over countless miles. He listened more closely, and for a moment thought he heard the echo of some distant, monstrous laughter.

Croaker spoke up below him. "So, Dumbledore? Any thoughts?"

"Just one," he answered, opening his eyes and handing the stone back to the Unspeakable. He spoke again more loudly. "I would appreciate it if everyone could take a step or two back."

The black hoods turned to one another in question, but none refused him. Once they had all shuffled further down the hill, Dumbledore removed his wand from his sleeve, twirled it once in the air, and gently tapped the partially restored pillar.

There was a loud _CRACK_ and a flash of white light. The Unspeakables all shielded their eyes from the spell, and when they looked again the pillar had been reduced to small pile of inky black ash. Croaker gasped beside Dumbledore. "Walloping wyverns, Albus! What are you-?"

"Once more," he announced. They all preemptively looked away as he disintegrated the other pillar into ash with a matching _CRACK_ and flash of light. "There, that solves one ethical dilemma. Have your people scatter the other pieces as well, Mr. Croaker. Ponds, forests, it shouldn't matter so long as they are well dispersed."

Croaker and his Unspeakables were still gaping at the ash piles, stunned into silence. He trembled as Dumbledore descended from the mound. "Y-yes...right away..."

Dumbledore tucked away his wand and briskly left the room. The temptation to restore the archway had gripped him more strongly than he was proud of, but he knew no good had, or ever would, come from the magic it promised. With it removed, he had one less distraction teasing at his mind, an obstacle he simply couldn't indulge. After all, there was still so much to do and so little time to do it.

Outside, a war was just beginning.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
